Harold Brown and the Imperatives of Foreign Policy

Historical OfficeOffice of the Secretary of Defense

SEPTEMBER 2017

Special Study 8Edward C. Keefer

Series Editors Erin R. Mahan • Jeffrey A. Larsen

Cold War Foreign Policy Series

1977–1981

Harold Brown and the Imperatives of Foreign Policy


Washington, DC


SEPTEMBER 2017




1977–1981



Washington, DC


SEPTEMBER 2017




1977–1981



Washington, DC

Cover Photo

Secretary of Defense Harold Brown confers with President Jimmy Carter in the Oval Offi ce, 20 July 1979.

Source: NARA II.

Cover Design: OSD Graphics, Pentagon.

About the Author

Edward C. Keefer received a B.A. from McGill University in 1967 and a Ph.D. in history from Michigan State University in 1974. For 34 years he was an editor of the U.S. Department of State’s offi cial documentary series, Foreign Relations of the United States. During that time he edited 25 Foreign Relations volumes, many of which documented U.S. policy during the Vietnam War. After 2002 he was the general editor of the series until his retirement in 2009, when he joined the Historical Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense. He is the author of Harold Brown: Off setting the Soviet Military Challenge, 1977–1981, volume 9 in the Secretaries of Defense Historical Series published by the OSD Historical Offi ce in 2017. He has also written articles and contributed to books on U.S. policy in East and Southeast Asia and taught courses on 19th- and 20th-century British military and political fi gures for the Smithsonian Associates program.

About the Editors

Erin R. Mahan has been Chief Historian for the Secretary of Defense since 2010. Previously, she worked in the Center for the Study of Weapons of Mass Destruction at National Defense University and in the Historian’s Offi ce at the U.S. Department of State, where she was an editor of the Foreign Relations of the United States series. Dr. Mahan holds a Ph.D. in history from the University of Virginia.

Jeff rey A. Larsen is Director of the Research Division at the NATO Defense College in Rome. He previously served as president of Larsen Consulting Group and as a senior scientist with Science Applications International Corporation. He has been an adjunct graduate professor at the universities of Denver, Northwestern, and Texas A&M and served on the faculty of the U.S. Air Force Academy. Widely published, Dr. Larsen holds an M.A. in national security aff airs from the Naval Postgraduate School and an M.A. and Ph.D. in politics from Princeton University.

Cover Photo


Source: NARA II.


About the Author


About the Editors



Historical Offi ceOffi ce of the Secretary of Defense

September 2017

Series Editors Erin R. Mahan, Ph.D.

Chief Historian, Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense

Jeff rey A. Larsen, Ph.D.President, Larsen Consulting Group

Special Study 8Edward C. Keefer, Ph.D.

1977–1981


Th is study is cleared for public release. Th e views expressed or implied within are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of the Department of Defense, the Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense, or any other agency of the Federal Government.

Portions of this work may be quoted or reprinted without permission, provided that a standard source credit line is included. Th e Historical Offi ce of the Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense would appreciate a courtesy copy of reprints or reviews.


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114 Ibid., 301–302; Hamilton Jordan, Crisis: Th e Last Year of the Carter Presidency (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1982), 249 (quotes).

115 Keefer, Harold Brown, 321–326; Gates, From the Shadows, 143–149.116 Francis Fukuyama, RAND Note N-15797-RG, “Th e Future of

the Soviet Role in Afghanistan,” Sep 1980, AF0001042, DNSA, accessed 15 Dec 2011; Keefer, Harold Brown, 326–327.

117 S. M. Burke and Lawrence Ziring, Pakistan’s Foreign Policy: An Historical Analysis, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), 432–446; Th omas P. Th ornton, “Between Two Stools? U.S. Policy Towards Pakistan During the Carter Administration,” Asian Survey 22, no. 10 (Oct 1982): 959–977.

118 Keefer, Harold Brown, 327–332; Carter, White House Diary, 470 (quotes).

119 See Carter, Keeping Faith, 91–124, for an account of his energy policy.

120 Keefer, Harold Brown, 332–333.121 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 443–444; Keefer, Harold Brown, 333.122 Keefer, Harold Brown, 335–333; Brown, Star Spangled Security, 75–76.123 Keefer, Harold Brown, 336–338; Crist, Twilight War, 41. 124 Carter Public Papers 1980–1981, 1:197–198 (quote); Brzezinski,

Power and Principle, 433–445; Statement Released by DoD, 27 Apr 1980, folder 560.1 1980, box 46, SecDef Files, Acc 330-82-0216, SecDef Files.

125 Memo, Ermath and Welch for Brzezinski, 22 Jan 1980, folder Mtgs Vance, Brown, Brzezinski, 1/80–3/80, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; Keefer, Harold Brown, 341.

126 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 456; Rearden, Council of War, 408–411.

Cold War Foreign Policy Series • Special Study 8

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103 Memos, Sick for Brzezinski, 6 Mar 1980, and 6 Jun 1980: both in folder Mtgs MBB, 3/80–4/80, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; Edward Keefer, Harold Brown, 276.

104 Memo, Brown for Vance and Brzezinski, 16 Jun 1980, folder Mtgs MBB, 5/80–6/80, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; memos, Brown to Carter, both dated 18 Jun 1980: both in folder Saudi Arabia (May-Jun) 1980, box 17, SecDef Files, Acc 330-82-0217; Keefer, Harold Brown, 276–277 (quotes).

105 Keefer, Harold Brown, 281.106 Carter Public Papers 1980–1981, 2:2431; Keefer, Harold Brown,

279–281 (quotes).107 DCI Stansfi eld Turner frankly admits this intelligence failure

in Burn Before Reading: President, CIA Directors, and Secret Intelligence (New York: Hyperion, 2005), 180–181. Brown cites U.S. intelligence’s agreement with the Iranian intelligence organization, Savak, to rely on them for intelligence on domestic troubles in Iran, thus assuring a pro-shah product. Brown also notes that U.S. intelligence leaders were unwilling to accept others’ (mostly academics’) warnings. Brown interview, 1 Mar 1993, pt. 4, 16.

108 Charles Duncan, interview by Alfred Goldberg and Roger Trask, 17 May 1996, 6–7, Oral History Collection, OSD/HO; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 369, 371–372, 374–375; Vance, Hard Choices, 330–332: Keefer, Harold Brown, 291–293 (quotes).

109 Vance, Hard Choices, 335; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 379; Gary Sick, All Fall Down: America’s Encounter with Iran (New York: Random House, 1985), 127, 131; David Crist, Th e Twilight War: Th e Secret History of America’s Th irty-Year Confl ict with Iran (New York: Penguin Press, 2012), 7–8.

110 Carter, White House Diary, 272, 277 (quotes); and Keeping Faith, 446; Brown interview, 1 Mar 1993; Sick, All Fall Down, 139; William Sullivan, Mission to Iran (New York: W. W. Norton, 1981), 229–230.

111 Keefer, Harold Brown, 296; Robert E. Huyser, Mission to Tehran (New York: Harper & Row, 1986), 142; Brown, Star Spangled Security, 76 (quote).

112 Keefer, Harold Brown, 298–299 (quote).113 Ibid., 299–300.

Contents

Foreword. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Th e Carter Foreign Policy Team and Policy Structure. . . . . . . . . . 6

Brown and Consultations with NATO Allies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8

Korea, Japan, China, and the Philippines. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14

SALT II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Panama and Latin America . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Th e Middle East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

Iran, Afghanistan, and Southwest Asia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

Th e Framework for Security in the Persian Gulf. . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

Notes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57




69












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Contents

Foreword. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1




SALT II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21


Th e Middle East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36



Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

Notes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57


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and 19 Feb 1980: all in folder Mtgs MMB, 1/80–2/801, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library.

81 Wayne S. Smith, Th e Closest of Enemies: A Personal and Diplomatic Account of U.S.-Cuban Relations Since 1957 (New York: W. W. Norton, 1987), 101–127, 163–164; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 346–353; memo, Brown for Brzezinski, 14 May 1979, 0000D51C.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; Keefer, Harold Brown, 82–88; Garthoff , Détente and Confrontation, 913–934; David D. Newsom, Th e Soviet Brigade in Cuba: A Study in Political Diplomacy (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), provides a case study.

82 PD 52, “Presidential Directive on U.S. Policy to Cuba,” 16 Oct 1979, PR01401, DNSA, accessed 28 Jul 2011.

83 See Robert Pastor, Condemned to Repetition: Th e United States and Nicaragua (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987); and Anthony Lake, Somoza Falling (Boston: Houghton Miffl in, 1989).

84 Minutes of PRC Meeting, 11 Jun 1978, CK3100554508, DDRS, accessed 17 Jul 2007.

85 Keefer, Harold Brown, 91–96; Rearden, Council of War, 407; Anastaio Somoza, as told to David Cox, Nicaragua Betrayed (Boston: Western Islands, 1980), 328–329.

86 Pastor, Condemned to Repetition, 147–148, 345n13; Carter, White House Diary, 333–334.

87 Keefer, Harold Brown, 96 (quote).88 Ibid.; memo, Tarnoff for Brzezinski, 1 Aug 1979, EL01327,

DNSA, accessed 28 Jul 2011.89 Keefer, Harold Brown, 96–97.90 Ibid., 97.91 Memo, Pastor for Brzezinski, 13 Mar 1980, EL01356, DNSA, accessed

28 Jul 2011; Keefer, Harold Brown, 98–99; Carter, Keeping Faith, 585–586.92 Keefer, Harold Brown, 99–100; memo, Aaron for Carter, 12 Jan

1981, EL01365, DNSA, accessed 28 Jul 2011; memo, Brown for Carter, 16 Jan 1981, 0000CB39.pdf, CD-2 Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memo, Carter for Muskie, 16 Jan 1981, EL01215, DNSA, accessed 28 Jul 2011.

v

Foreword

Th is is the eighth special study by the Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense (OSD) Historical Offi ce on the secretary’s role in foreign policy. It examines Secretary of Defense Harold Brown’s foreign policy contribution to the administration of President Jimmy Carter. Brown began his tenure at the Pentagon determined to limit his focus to national security policy and military issues. As the Carter administration faced a series of complex international challenges and crises, however, Brown became more involved in formulating and implementing foreign policy. National security issues and defense relationships with allies and friendly nations, coupled with a resurgent Soviet Union, required the secretary to actively engage in U.S. foreign policymaking. Brown was the fi rst secretary of defense to visit China, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia. Among his foreign policy roles, he was a major adviser in the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT II) and a promoter of the Panama Canal Treaties of 1978. In 1980 he argued successfully for military aid to the government of El Salvador in a fi ght against a communist insurgency. He was part of the team that persuaded Western European NATO members to agree to base theater nuclear missiles on their soil in response to the Soviet theater nuclear challenge.

Th e Historical Offi ce views this foreign policy series as part of an ongoing eff ort to assess the secretary’s myriad roles and accomplishments. Th e titles published to date have covered every secretary of defense since 1947 up to Secretary Brown. We anticipate continuing the series in tandem with future volumes in the Secretaries of Defense Historical Series.

My thanks go to our senior editor, Sandy Doyle, for her careful editing of the manuscript and Amy Bunting of OSD Graphics for her expertise and design. Th e series titles printed to date as well as other publications are available on the OSD Historical Offi ce Website. We invite you to peruse our selections at history.defense.gov.

Erin R. Mahan Chief Historian Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense


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v

Foreword






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59 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 325.60 Keefer, Harold Brown, 161–162.61 Carter, Keeping Faith, 242–261; Brown interview, 1 Mar 1993, pt. 4, 28. 62 Keefer, Harold Brown, 166–167, 169–170.63 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 125–126.64 Carter, Keeping Faith 152–157.65 Memo, Brown for Carter, 29 Aug 1977, folder Panama 821 (27

Sep–10 Nov) 1977, box 77, SecDef Files, Acc 330-80-0017; memo, Davis for Vance, Brown et al., 26 Jan 1977, w/attached response to PRM 1, “Policy Review Memorandum: Panama,” PD01537, DNSA, accessed 15 Jul 2010.

66 Perceived wisdom held that the Carter administration’s public relations campaign turned around overwhelming opposition (almost 80 percent) to at least majority public support. George D. Moff et III, Th e Limits of Victory: Th e Ratifi cation of the Panama Canal Treaties (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985), 116, argues convincingly that opposition remained static and opposed despite the Carter campaign.

67 Memo, Davis for Vance, Brown et al., 26 Jan 1977, w/attached response to PRM 1, “Policy Review Memorandum: Panama,” Tab 4, 15 Jan 1977, PD01537, DNSA, accessed 15 Jul 2010; William J. Jorden, Panama Odyssey (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1984), 343–344; memo, Dolvin for Pastor, 31 Jan 1977, CK3100104729, DDRS, accessed 15 Jul 2010.

68 Carter, Keeping Faith, 157; Vance, Hard Choices, 146. 69 Fact Sheet, United States Southern Command, 13 Sep 1977,

briefi ng book for Carter visit, 16–17 Jun 1978, folder Panama Canal Treaty, Documents on Implementation, 1977–1978, box 418, Subject Files, OSD/HO; Jorden, Panama Odyssey, 376–380.

70 Sol M. Linowitz, Th e Making of a Public Man: A Memoir (Boston: Little, Brown, 1985), 164–165; Carter, Keeping Faith, 168; Betty Glad, An Outsider in the White House: Jimmy Carter, His Advisors, and the Making of American Foreign Policy (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009), 92.

71 Carter, Keeping Faith, 152, 155, 162 (quote); memos, Brown for Carter, 26 Aug 1977, 0000CB30.pdf, CD-1; and 19 Sep 1977, 0000B403.pdf, CD-2: both in Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

1

Introduction

Harold Brown had little interest in formulating and implementing foreign policy when he accepted President Jimmy Carter’s nomination to become secretary of defense. Later, observing that “in most Secretaries of Defense there is a Secretary of State striving to break out,” he professed no desire to assume that role, especially since he would be challenging his good friend, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance. Brown recalled that “two of them were already enough,” implying also that he had not wished to compete with the other would-be dominator of foreign policy, National Security Adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski.1 Initially, Brown felt content to provide national security advice and support to foreign policymakers, eschewing broader topics. In early meetings of the National Security Council (NSC), the Policy Review Committee (PRC), and the Special Coordination Committee (SCC)—the main deliberative forums for foreign policy debate and formulation during the Carter years—the Pentagon chief took the lead only when defense issues were clearly the primary topic.

It was not that Brown was unqualifi ed. With his impressive credentials as a nuclear scientist and weapons designer, an adept administrator at the nation’s premier nuclear laboratory, a Secretary Robert McNamara “whiz kid” director for defense research and engineering, and then secretary of the Air Force, Brown was known as a savvy technocrat with a prodigious command of details and the Pentagon’s internal workings. Compared with the 13 defense secretaries who preceded him, he came to his offi ce with the most Pentagon experience (eight years). While blessed with blazing intelligence and an almost superhuman work ethic, he remained by his own admission a shy and sometimes awkward person who


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1

Introduction




62

Wickham, 221921Z Dec 1979, 0000D3A1.pdf; memo, McGiff ert to Brown, 29 Jan 1980, w/Brown’s disapproval, 000CD9E.pdf: both in CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

39 Memo, Gregg for Brzezinski, 20 May 1980, folder Mtgs Muskie, Brown, Brzezinski [MBB], 5/80–6/80, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; Gleysteen, Massive Entanglement, 127–143, Wickham, Korea on the Brink, 127–149; Oberdorfer, Two Koreas, 124–133; Department of State White Paper, “United States Statement on the Events in Kwangju, May 1980,” Jun 1989, reprinted in Wickham, Korea on the Brink, 193–228.

40 Keefer, Harold Brown, 394 (quote).41 Memo, Brown for Vance and Brzezinski, 12 Aug 1980,

0000D3A0.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memos, Gregg for Brzezinski, 15 Aug 1980; Brzezinski for Carter, 16 Sep 1980: both in folder ROK 9/80–1/81, box 44, Country File, Korea, Brzezinski Material, National Security Aff airs, Carter Library; msg 4232, State to Seoul, 5 Dec 1980, CK3100105195; msg 16596, Seoul to State, 13 Dec 1980, CK3100109098: both in DDRS, accessed 22 Jul 2009; Richard Holbrook and Michael Armacost, “A Future Leader’s Moment of Truth,” 24 Dec 1997, New York Times, A17; Richard Allen, “On the Korea Tightrope, 1980,” 21 Jan 1998, ibid., A17.

42 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 150–151,43 Note, Carter for Brown, Vance, and Brzezinski, 9 Sep 1979,

folder PRC Meeting w/Deng [1/9/78–10/3/78], box 9, Geographic File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; memo, Brown for Carter, 16 Sep 1979, 0000CF73.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memo, Carter for Vance and Brown, 17 Dec 1979, folder PRC Alpha [12/78–1/80], box 9, Geographic File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library.

44 Foreign Relations of the United States [FRUS], 1977–1980, vol. 13, China, ed. David P. Nickles (Washington, DC: GPO, 2013), 1033–1035; memcon, Brown and Deng, 8 Jan 1980,10 a.m., CK3100374514, DDRS, accessed 13 Aug 2009; also printed in FRUS 1977–1980, 13:1055–1066.

45 Memos, Brzezinski for Carter, 29 Sep 1978, CK3100010293; 26 Oct 1978, CK3100111050: both in DDRS, accessed 17 Aug 2009; memo, Brzezinski for Brown and Vance, 6 Oct 1978, folder China-ROK. 6–10/78, box 11, Country File, Korea, Brzezinski Material, National Security Aff airs, Carter Library; memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 26 Oct 1978, CK3100111050, DDRS, accessed 17 Aug 2009.


3

and national security questions. Th e Republic of Korea and Japan institutionalized their military relations with the United States with annual consultative meetings between Brown and his counterparts in Tokyo or Seoul. To South Korea, the issues were how the United States would formulate its policy to defend the South from the North, the number of U.S. tripwire forces in Korea, and the types of weapons to back them up. To the Japanese, Brown talked mostly about their professed goal to spend more on defense—1 percent of gross national product (GNP)—and encouraged them to assume more regional security responsibilities.4

Th e second Strategic Arms Limitation Talks, inherited by the Carter administration, were highly technical negotiations undertaken at Helsinki, Geneva, and Vienna, augmented by high-level discussions in Moscow and Washington. While the Department of State and the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency (ACDA) had primary responsibility for the talks, Brown and DoD had an obvious stake in the process. Furthermore, SALT II went to the very essence of the U.S.-Soviet relationship—how to control the nuclear arms race so that neither side would be tempted to strive for superiority and unbalance what Brown called “essential equivalence.” Brown increasingly became a trusted source of SALT II advice to the president.5

Much of the foreign policy debate during the Carter years took place within the halls of Congress. Brown proved conscientious and eff ective in his relations with Capitol Hill. He was never more so than in the debate over the return of the Panama Canal, a raucous and highly politicized ratifi cation process that supercharged the political right opposed to “giving away our canal.” Th e successful ratifi cation, and then the passage of legislation to implement the treaties, became bruising political battles for which the Carter administration took out all the stops. Brown maintained to Congress that the real issue was not ownership of the canal, but rather the canal’s security and openness to all traffi c. To Brown, the danger of not returning the canal was far greater than trying to


2

found it diffi cult to engage in small talk and banter. Brown was the antithesis of Nobel Peace Prize winner and controversial statesman Henry Kissinger, who employed humor to further his negotiations. As the Carter administration found itself increasingly embroiled in foreign policy disputes, Brown was called to serve as a principal foreign policy adviser and sometime diplomat. He did so with diligence, meeting with his share of successes and failures.2

By 1977 the nature of the job had changed so that it was impossible for an incumbent not to engage in foreign policy. Much of America’s interactions with friends and allies had revolved around military relationships. Th e most obvious case: the members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). Brown attended the annual gathering of defense ministers and other alliance planning meetings. NATO defense ministers coordinated their defense budgets and force structures, planned broad strategy (both conventional and nuclear), arranged for joint production of weapons, and purchased each other’s weapon systems (mostly Western European purchases of U.S. weapons). Any number of alliance questions ostensibly about defense had inherent foreign policy implications—the pledge by each country to raise its total defense budget by 3 percent real growth and a NATO decision to buy weapon systems—that went to the heart of the guns or butter debate that had dominated Western Europe since the beginning of the Cold War. To persuade the NATO allies to commit their fair defense share required continual consultations and arm-twisting of NATO counterparts by Brown and other Department of Defense (DoD) offi cials. Some of the most controversial NATO issues turned into raging international debates, arousing vocal and determined public opposition—the neutron bomb and the agreement to deploy nuclear cruise and Pershing II missiles on alliance soil.3

NATO consultations had represented a standard part of any secretary of defense’s job since the establishment of the alliance in 1949. With many allies, friends, and potential friends outside of NATO, U.S. foreign relations also became intertwined with defense


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46 Testimony by Jones, SCFR, Taiwan: Hearings, 96th Cong., 1st sess., 22 Feb 1979, 740; Congressional Quarterly Almanac, 1979, vol. 33 (Washington, DC: Congressional Quarterly, 1980), 35, 104–105.

47 Memo, Brown for Carter, 10 Mar 1977, 0000D2D1.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

48 Keefer, Harold Brown, 407 (quote).49 Brown’s comments on memo, Platt to Brown, 23 Dec 1980,

JA00803, DNSA, accessed 18 Aug 2009.50 Memo, Armacost for Brzezinski, 20 Apr 1977, CK3100510895;

Summary of PRC Meeting of 21 Apr 1977, CK3100510319: both in DDRS, accessed 16 Sep 2009; memos, Slocombe for Brown, 23 Aug 1977; Brown for Brzezinski, 25 Aug 1977: both in 0000CAC4.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memo, Claytor for Brown, 13 Jun 1977, PH00986, DNSA, accessed 16 Sep 2009; Keefer, Harold Brown, 411–414.

51 Memos, McGiff ert for Brown, 9 Nov 1977; Brown for Brzezinski, 12 Nov 1977: both in 0000CAF9.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memo, Slocombe for Brown, 13 Dec 1977, 0000CB19.pdf, ibid.

52 Memo, Mondale for Carter, 26 Apr 1978, CK3100514414, DDRS, accessed 16 Sep 2009; William E. Berry Jr., U.S. Bases in the Philippines: Th e Evolution of the Special Relationship (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1989), 202–205; memo, Platt for Brzezinski, 3 Nov 1978, CK3100469872; memcon, Carter, Inouye et al., 17 Nov 1978, CK3100480547; memo, Vance for Carter, 29 Dec 1978, CK3100058883; ltr, Carter to Marcos, 4 Jan 1979, CK3100511475: all in DDRS, accessed 16 Sep 2009.

53 Poole, Decline of Détente, 17–21; see also Strobe Talbot, Endgame: Th e Inside Story of SAL T II (New York: Harper & Row, 1979).

54 Talbot, Endgame, 50; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 158.55 Vance, Hard Choices, 47–55; Brzezinski, Power and Principle,

157–164.56 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 167–171; Talbot, Endgame, 184–185.57 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 317; Keefer, Harold Brown, 159

(quote).58 Keefer, Harold Brown, 159–160.


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retain it against an increasingly nationalistic Panama and the threat of sabotage from anti-American elements in Latin America.6

Th e Panama Canal controversy has slipped into history, but the Middle East confl ict between Israel and the Arabs festers on. President Jimmy Carter is most remembered for his Camp David Accords and follow-on peace treaty between Israel and Egypt, both major accomplishments in a diffi cult and long-lasting dispute. In truth, the peace came at the price of generous military assistance and credits to both countries. Th e secretary of state and ultimately the president had the responsibility for military sales credits and military assistance. Congress had to approve. Because DoD implemented the agreed policy, in practice Brown played a clear policy role, especially since the details of the implementation of broad policy decisions became, many times in fact, the real negotiations. Brown spent many hours with Israeli and Egyptian defense ministers working out military sales, credit, and assistance arrangements. In addition, part of the Camp David Accords understanding was that the United States would fi nance and construct Israeli airfi elds in the Negev to replace those in the Sinai (the peninsula would eventually return to Egypt). Carter gave Brown and DoD this responsibility, which the Israelis made a requirement for their agreement to the peace accords.7

Saudi Arabia provided a second focus of U.S. policy in the Middle East. Sitting on the world’s largest reservoir of oil, its military was totally unable to protect the country and its vast wealth against a determined outside threat (in U.S. eyes primarily the Soviet Union, or secondarily Iraq). Having relied for years on the U.S. promise to defend their sovereignty, the Saudis felt vulnerable after the 1979 revolution in Iran and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan later that year. Th ey pressed Washington for more advanced weapons, and Brown and DoD favored beefi ng up the kingdom’s defenses. More generally, they revamped the U.S. military posture in the Persian Gulf, the Indian Ocean, and South Asia, the framework for security.


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32 Ltr, Brown to Vance with copy to Brzezinski, 14 Oct 1978, 0000D0E8.pdf, CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 28 Oct 1978, CK3100104576; memo, Brzezinski for Carter with Carter’s disapproval, 1 Nov 1979, CK31000117770; memcon, Park, Brown, and Gleysteen, CK 3100509548; memo, Platt for Brzezinski, 13 Nov 1979, CK3100517021: all in DDRS, accessed 21 Jul 2009.

33 Wood, “Persuading a President,” 107–110; Don Hirst, “North Korea Has Ground Unit Edge,” 8 Jan 1978, Army Times, 1, 21. Neither Brown nor Carter fully accepted this assessment. “I have never been convinced of the accuracy of the report, but I had to accept it,” the president remembered. Jimmy Carter, interview by Alfred Goldberg and Maurice Matloff , Atlanta, GA, 12 Mar 1986, Oral History Collection, OSD/HO. Brown recalled: “What really undermined it [the withdrawal policy] in the end was an intelligence assessment, the validity of which I still have some uncertainty about.” Brown interview, 1 Mar 1993, pt. 4, ibid.

34 Memo, Platt for Brzezinski, 17 Jan 1979, CK3100519391, DDRS; PRM 45, 22 Jan 1979, item PR001441, Digital National Security Archive (DNSA); memo, Platt to Brzezinski, 6 Jun 1979, CK3100147779; Summary of Conclusions at PRC Meeting, 8 Jun 1979, CK3100147884: all in DDRS, accessed 22 Jul 2009.

35 Memcons, Carter, Brown, Vance, Brzezinski, Park et al., 30 Jan 1979, 11 a.m.–12:20 p.m., CK3100511398; Carter, Park and Gleysteen, 30 Jun 1979, 12:23–1:30 p.m., CK3100110798: both in DDRS, accessed 22 Jul 2009; Vance, Hard Choices, 129–130; William Gleysteen, Massive Entanglements, Marginal Infl uence: Carter and the Korean Crisis (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 1999), 46–49; Oberdorfer, Two Koreas, 106–107.

36 Memos, Brzezinski for Carter, 12 Jul 1979, CK3100514579; Brown for Brzezinski, 6 Oct 1979, CK3100467908: both in DDRS, accessed 22 Jul 2009; Carter Public Papers 1979, 2:1275–1276.

37 Gleysteen, Massive Entanglement, 53–62, 132–133; Oberdorfer, Two Koreas, 111–115; msg, State to all diplomatic posts, 27 Oct 1977, CK3100489352, DDRS, accessed 22 Jul 2009.

38 Oberdorfer, Two Koreas, 117–121; Gleysteen, Massive Entanglement, 77–83, 210–212; John A. Wickham, Korea on the Brink: From the “12/12 Incident” to the Kwangju Uprising (Washington, DC: National Defense University Press, 1999), 53–66; msg, Brown to


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(New York: Random House, 1989), 209–216; Wilfried Loth, Overcoming the Cold War: A History of Détente, 1950–1991, trans. Robert F. Hogg (Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 155.

27 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 140–141.28 Don Oberdorfer, Two Koreas: A Contemporary History (Reading,

MA: Addison-Wesley, 1997), 85–86. Carter provides a long discussion of his China policy in Keeping Faith, 186–211; Harold Brown, interview by Alfred Goldberg and Ronald Landa, 1 Mar 1993, pt. 4, 12–13, Oral History Collection, OSD/HO; Brown, Star Spangled Security, 167–168.

29 Joe Wood, “Persuading a President: Jimmy Carter and American Troops in Korea,” Studies in Intelligence 6, no. 4 (1996): 98–99; Oberdorfer, Two Koreas, 101–102; memo, Armacost for Brzezinski, 9 Feb 1977, CK3100502092, Declassifi ed Documents Reference Service (DDRS), accessed 20 Jul 2009; General John W. Vessey, interview by Alfred Goldberg and Maurice Matloff , 12 Mar 1990, 3–4, Oral History Collection, OSD/HO; Maj. Gen. John K. Singlaub, with Malcolm McConnell, Hazardous Duty: An American Soldier in the Twentieth Century (New York: Summit Books, 1991), 383; msgs, CINCPAC to JCS, 011957Z May 1977, CK3100119115; 052017Z May 1977, CK3100124436; and 110344Z May 1977, CK3100111625; msg, COMUSKOREA to CINCPAC, 151330Z May 1977, CK3100111627: all in DDRS, accessed 20 Jul 2009.

30 Memo, Brown for Carter, 29 Apr 1977, 000B3F9.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memcon, Carter, Brown, Brzezinski, et al., 21 May 1977, 9:30–10:30 a.m., CK3100500089; memo, General Brown and Habib for Carter, 28 May 1977, CK3100105174; memo, Brown for Carter, 12 Jul 1977, CK3100145706; memo, Brown and Vance for Carter, 13 Jul 1977, CK3100105178; and memcon, Carter, Brown, Brzezinski, and Armacost, 14 Jul 1977, CK3100500095: all in DDRS, accessed 20 Jul 2009; memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 13 Jul 1977, folder ROK 7–9/77, box 43, Country File, Korea, Brzezinski Material, National Security Aff airs, Carter Library.

31 Memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 7 Sep 1977, CK3100500100, DDRS, accessed 20 Jul 2009; memo, Brown for Carter, 26 Aug 1977, 0000CAC4.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; memcon, Brown, Brzezinski, Vance, 4 Apr 1978, CK3100496701, DDRS, accessed 21 Jul 2009; memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 18 Apr 1978, CK3100505091, DDRS, accessed 22 Jul 2009; memo Brzezinski for Carter, 19 Apr 1978, folder ROK 1–6/78, box 44, Country File, Korea, Brzezinski Material, National Security Aff airs, Carter Library; Carter Public Papers 1978, 1:768.


5

During the fi nal two years of his presidency, Carter came to rely on Brown as an envoy, a person who could explain the administration’s policies. After the fall of the Shah of Iran, Brown embarked on the most clearly defi ned diplomatic mission of his career to date—to reassure Middle East allies about America’s commitment to them in light of the changed environment. Th e actual impact of this mission proved diffi cult to quantify, but Brown’s personal assurances were part of the toolset of Carter’s diplomacy.8 Th e success of this trip in the president’s eyes led to other assignments. Brown worked closely with Western European leaders to gain their approval—in the face of strong local antinuclear opposition—for stationing cruise missiles and Pershing II missiles with nuclear warheads on their soil. Brown traveled to mainland China, the fi rst secretary of defense to do so, to explore with Chinese leaders the expansion of U.S.–People’s Republic of China military relations and to coordinate policy to obstruct the Soviet military takeover of Afghanistan. Brown met with Saudi Defense Minister Sultan bin Abdulaziz al-Saud to explain U.S. policies and limitations on rearming the Saudi air force. At the end of his tenure, Brown undertook a mission to Seoul for the purpose of dissuading the South Korean military dictator, Chun Do Hwan, from executing a key dissident leader, Kim Dae Jung, who later became the fi rst democratically elected president of the Republic of South Korea.9

Brown was not always successful in these missions, just as Carter’s foreign policy was not an unqualifi ed success. By January 1981 Brown had become an acknowledged and integral part of the foreign policy team. Although he never enjoyed a close personal relationship with Brzezinski (unlike his friendship with Vance), Brown found himself more in tune with Brzezinski’s hawkish approach to foreign and national security policies. In the last two years of his tenure, Brown proved more assertive and dominant at the various NSC, PRC, and SCC meetings that debated foreign policy issues. His advice closely mirrored that of Brzezinski (who claims Brown was by this time even more hard-line than he was), and was generally, although not always, accepted and followed by


4





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Carter.10 Brown the reluctant diplomat, the secretary of defense who had initially vowed to stay out of foreign aff airs and political questions, became one of Carter’s top foreign aff airs advisers, entrusted to undertake key diplomatic missions.

Th e Carter Foreign Policy Team and Policy Structure

Notwithstanding his ten years in the Navy, Carter was initially an antidefense president, who remained skeptical of the Department of Defense and military spending throughout his entire four years. He came to offi ce determined to cut waste and mismanagement in defense spending by 3–5 billion dollars in his fi rst year. It is a testament to Brown that he was able to persuade the president to increase military spending during his last two years in response to the perceived Soviet threat. Although not deserving of all the credit for Carter’s reluctant conversion, Brown was instrumental in the process.11

If Carter could claim some modicum of national security experience based on his naval career, he could not do the same for foreign policy, where his experience was nonexistent. As executive secretary of the Trilateral Commission, Zbigniew Brzezinski organized a cram course to get Carter up to snuff in foreign policy issues.12 What Carter did not want was a so-called “Lone Ranger” foreign policy system, in which one man essentially controlled policy recommendations and advice to the president, as Carter believed Henry Kissinger had done under Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford. President-elect Carter also favored a simpler, more diversifi ed foreign policy establishment in which a wide range of advisers would be free to give him advice. He created only two subcommittees for the National Security Council: the Policy Review Committee and the Special Coordination Committee. Th e fi rst dealt with larger, long-term national security and foreign policy issues; the latter handled crises and supposedly lesser issues. In theory, the National Security Council—a statutory group consisting of the president, vice president, and secretaries of state and defense, but augmented by other offi cials such as the chairman


59

19 Auten, Carter’s Conversion, 104–106; RAND Corporation, Alliance Defense in the Eighties (AD-80), Nov 1976; Frank L. Jones, Blowtorch: Robert Komer, Vietnam, and Cold War Strategy (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2013), 223–224.

20 Carter Speech at the fi rst session of the NATO Ministerial Meeting, 10 May 1977, Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Jimmy Carter, 1977 (Washington, DC: GPO, 1978), 1:848–852; Vance, Hard Choices, 65: NAC Communiqué, 11 May 1977, Department of State, American Foreign Policy: Basic Documents, 1977–1980, 472–474; Foreign Policy Research Institute, Th ree Per Cent Solution, 26–31.

21 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 136–137.22 Raymond L. Garthoff , Détente and Confrontation: American-Soviet

Relations from Nixon to Reagan, rev. ed. (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1994), 937–938.

23 Memos, Brzezinski for Carter, 15 Apr 1977, folder ERW & Radiological Warfare, 6–8/77, box 16; Brown for Carter, n.d. [23 Sep 1977], folder ERW & Radiological Warfare, 9/77–1/78, box 17; Brzezinski for Carter, n.d. [16 Jan 1978?], folder ERW & Radiological Warfare, 9/77–1/78, box 17; Brzezinski for Carter, folder ERW & Radiological Warfare, 2–4/78, box 17: all in Subject File, Brzezinski Material, National Security Aff airs, Jimmy Carter Presidential Library and Museum (hereafter Carter Library), Atlanta, GA; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 302–304; Jimmy Carter, White House Diary (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010), 79; memos, Brzezinski to Carter, 24 Mar 1978, and 4 Apr 1979: both in folder ERW & Radiological Warfare, 2–4/78, box 17, Subject File, Brzezinski Material, National Security Aff airs, Carter Library; Carter Public Papers 1978, 1:702.

24 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 139–140; William Leonard, “‘Closing the Gap’: Th e Euromissiles and President Carter’s Strategy for Western Europe (1977–1979),” 21 Dec 2010, Center for Strategic International Studies, <http//csis.org/publication/closing-gap-euromissiles-and-president-carter-nuclear-weapons>, accessed 23 Feb 2012; Garthoff , Détente and Confrontation, 940–957.

25 Keefer, Harold Brown, 743 (quote).26 Garthoff , Détente and Confrontation, 940–957; Jimmy Carter,

Keeping Faith: Memoirs of a President (New York: Bantam Books, 1982), 535–538; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 309–310, 462–463; Helmut Schmidt, Men and Powers: A Political Retrospective, trans. Ruth Hein


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Historical Series (Washington, DC: OSD Historical Offi ce, 2017), 395–402; and Brown, Star Spangled Security, 150–155. More detail on the meeting with the Saudi defense minister is in Keefer, Harold Brown, 274–283.

10 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 47.11 Th e thesis that Carter underwent a conversion was suggested in

Robert M. Gates, From the Shadows: Th e Ultimate Insider’s Story of Five Presidents and How Th ey Won the Cold War (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), 108–115, and elaborated in Brian J. Auten, Carter’s Conversion: Th e Hardening of American Defense Policy (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2008). Brown’s role in changing Carter’s mind is introduced in Keefer, Harold Brown, viii–xvi, and highlighted throughout the book.

12 Harold Brown, interview by Alfred Goldberg and Maurice Matloff , pt. 1, 28 Feb 1991, 2, Oral History Collection, OSD/HO; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 5–7; Hamilton Jordan, Crisis: Th e Last Year of the Carter Presidency (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1982), 45.

13 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 57–62; Presidential Directive (PD) 1, “Establishment of the Presidential Review and Directive Series/NSC; PD 2, “Th e National Security Council System”: both dated 20 Jan 1977, Presidential Directives and Presidential Review Memoranda, Carter Library, <http:www.jimmyvarterlibrary.gov/documents/pddirectives/pd01andpd02>, accessed 8 Mar 2009.

14 Cyrus Vance, Hard Choices: Critical Years in American Foreign Policy (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983), 37.

15 Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 44–45.16 Ibid., 47.17 Walter S. Poole, Th e Decline of Détente: Elliot Richardson, James

Schlesinger, and Donald Rumsfeld, 1973–1977, Cold War Foreign Policy Series, Special Study 7 (Washington, DC: OSD Historical Offi ce, 2015), 17–21; Steven L. Rearden, Council of War: A History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff , 1942–1991 (Washington, DC: Joint History Offi ce, Offi ce of the Director, Joint Staff , Joint Chiefs of Staff , 2012), 400–401.

18 Keefer, Harold Brown, 417–422; NATO and the New Soviet Th reat: Report of Senator Sam Nunn and Dewey F. Bartlett to the Committee on Armed Services, United States Senate, 95th Cong., 1st sess., 24 Jan 1977, 4–6, 12–13, 15.


7

of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS), the secretary of the treasury, the director of central intelligence, and the national security adviser—was primarily responsible for advising the president. In practice, the two subcommittees held the real debates, and their recommendations usually went to the president mostly unchanged.

Th e PRC was supposed to be the dominant group, headed by a Cabinet offi cer responsible for a study paper called the Presidential Review Memorandum (PRM) prepared by his agency’s staff . For foreign aff airs, Vance and State took the lead. For military strategy and defense issues, the baton passed to Brown and OSD (Offi ce of the Secretary of Defense). If the issue dealt with international economics, Treasury might step forward. For intelligence issues, the director of central intelligence would be the front man. Th ese latter two contingencies were rare. Vance (and later, Edmund Muskie) and State did the major share of the PRC work during the Carter presidency, with Brown and OSD a clear second.13

Brzezinski convinced the president that he and the NSC staff should have responsibility for the SCC. As it turned out, this subcommittee often dealt with major foreign policy issues, most signifi cantly Iran and the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks. It also became the mechanism for approving intelligence operations. Since Carter did not require unanimity of advice when there was a diff erence of opinion or when the NSC, PRC, or SCC were unable to make recommendations, Brzezinski took responsibility for detailing the various diff erences of opinion and problems for Carter. Vance bitterly regretted allowing Brzezinski this power, believing it gave to the national security adviser too much leeway to frame the issues for the president.14

Brown was less bothered by Brzezinski’s control of the policy process, trusting that a voracious reader and detail-oriented man such as Carter—similar to Brown himself—would not be content to read only the NSC staff account. Also, Brown was not initially prepared to jump into the foreign policy debate between Vance


6






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58











7






8

and Brzezinski, especially one that revolved around what worked best with the Soviet Union. To put it simply, Vance favored détente with the Soviets to encourage better behavior. Brzezinski held that the Soviets only respected power, so he opted for show of and even use of force to moderate Moscow’s actions. Brown found himself in the middle of these two positions, much to the chagrin of Brzezinski who expected Brown to support his hard-line approach. Th e national security adviser later complained about Brown: “Th ere was in him an ambivalence and lack of interest in broader strategy which reduced the impact of what we had to say to the President. . . . I suspect that the reason was rooted partly in his intellectual brilliance, which often is the enemy of clear cut action, and partly in the fact that broader strategy was not his central concern. Th is occasionally created a Hamlet-like impression.”15

Brzezinski acknowledged that Brown did not remain the reluctant fi gure he described initially.16 In the later Carter years, Brown became more assertive, more in concert with Brzezinski’s pessimistic view of the Soviet Union and its leadership, and certainly more eff ective in convincing the president that foreign and national security policy could not succeed if not supported by increased defense spending and better use of military technology. How Brown came to that conclusion and how he successfully sold it to the president is one of the major accomplishments of his tenure as secretary of defense, and one of the reasons for his transformation into an important member of the Carter foreign policy team.

Brown and Consultations with NATO Allies

In January 1977 a general consensus among experts in both of the previous Republican administrations and the incoming Carter team held that NATO was in trouble, ill-prepared to counter a Soviet conventional attack in Central Europe. NATO’s conventional weaknesses could force it to resort to a nuclear defense of Western Europe, with the resulting dangers of escalation. Th e Western European alliance members had failed to increase their military

57

Notes

1 Harold Brown, interview by Edward Keefer and Erin Mahan, 11 Feb 2011, 18–19, Oral History Collection, OSD Historical Offi ce (hereafter OSD/HO).

2 Zbigniew Brzezinski, Power and Principle: Memoirs of the National Security Adviser, 1977–1981 (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1983), 12, 44–47.

3 Th e 3 percent pledge is in the North Atlantic Council (NAC) Communiqué, 11 May 1977, printed in Department of State, American Foreign Policy: Basic Documents, 1977–1980 (Washington, DC: GPO, 1983), 272–274; see also Foreign Policy Research Institute Staff , Th e Th ree Per Cent Solution and the Future of NATO (Philadelphia: Foreign Policy Research Institute, 1981).

4 Harold Brown, Star Spangled Security: Applying the Lessons Learned Over Six Decades of Safeguarding America, with Joyce Winslow (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2012), 166–175.

5 Ibid., 117–118.6 Statement by Harold Brown, Senate Committee on Foreign

Relations (SCFR), Panama Canal Treaties: Hearings, 95th Cong., 1st sess., 26 Sep 1977, 96–98.

7 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 144–147; Frank N. Schubert, Building Air Bases in the Negev: Th e U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in Israel, 1979–1982 (Washington, DC: Offi ce of History, Corps of Engineers and U.S. Army Center of Military History, 1992), provides a brief account of the agreement and much more exhaustive account of the actual construction process.

8 Brown, Star Spangled Security, 147–148.9 For Brown’s role in negotiations over modernization of NATO

theater nuclear weapons, see section “Brown and Consultations with NATO Allies” herein; and Brown, Star Spangled Security, 139–140. For more on the China trip, see Edward Keefer, Harold Brown: Off setting the Soviet Military Challenge, 1977–1981, vol. 9 of Secretaries of Defense


9

contributions commensurate with their growing prosperity. Instead, they directed resources to social welfare programs. Th e Europeans took peace for granted, especially as the United States and the Soviet Union pursued a policy of détente, and West Germany forged its own policy of better relations with the Eastern bloc. To NATO’s Western European members, a Warsaw Pact conventional attack seemed far-fetched. Th ey were content to rely on nuclear deterrence. Such a mindset made persuading NATO members to pay their fair share for improvements to their conventional military forces diffi cult.

Another fl aw resided in the post-Vietnam War United States, where resources potentially available for U.S.-funded NATO improvements had been shifted to Southeast Asian operations in the decade after 1965. U.S. NATO-obligated conventional forces and weapon systems had not been improved, and readiness had been allowed to deteriorate. Most of the conventional weapons that the United States would deploy to defend Central Europe were 1950s and early 1960s vintage. Weapon systems of other individual NATO members were fragmented, uncoordinated, duplicative, and often competitive. Command, control, communications, and intelligence were equally disorganized systems and functions. Eff orts by Secretaries of Defense James Schlesinger and Donald Rumsfeld to correct these inadequacies were only marginally successful.17

To make matter worse, the Soviet Union had made great strides in improving its conventional forces and its tactical nuclear weapons in Central Europe. Th e DoD director of net assessment concluded that there existed “a rough standoff ” in theater nuclear weapons, but the scales had tipped to the Warsaw Pact in conventional forces. By his reckoning, the pact enjoyed numerical superiority in troops, tanks, armored personnel carriers, antitank missile launchers and antitank guns, artillery and multiple rocket launchers, air defense, and ground attack aircraft. NATO held the advantage only in tactical nuclear weapons (artillery and air-delivered) and in helicopters. Th ere were qualifi cations. Although outnumbered by over 900


8





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Notes











9





10

tactical aircraft (5,400 to 4,500), NATO enjoyed an edge thanks to the quality of planes and their weapons, and the skill of their pilots, controllers, and crews. Still, NATO’s technological advantage, as other intelligence assessments also confi rmed, was fading fast. Studies by the Senate (the Sam Nunn–Dewey F. Bartlett report was the most infl uential) and a U.S. Army report prepared by retired General James Hollingsworth warned that a Soviet conventional blitzkrieg would cut through the North German Plain so quickly that NATO would not have time to reinforce and would have to go nuclear. While, in retrospect, the evidence of Soviet plans for a blitzkrieg conventional attack was not conclusive, most considered it a real possibility.18

To remedy these problems for NATO, Brown brought in longtime national security specialist Robert Komer, who had been working on a RAND Corporation study on revamping NATO for the past few years.19 Plans to reform and reenergize NATO would only succeed if alliance members agreed to increase defense spending. After a NATO North Atlantic Council (NAC) meeting attended by Carter and Brown in May 1977, the members inaugurated a long-term defense plan for NATO, with “Blowtorch Bob” Komer acting as the U.S. point man. At this NATO summit meeting—Carter’s attendance meant NATO heads of government felt compelled to attend—the participants resolved to increase their defense spending by 3 percent real growth every year. Action plans and promises were fi ne, but money talked.20

Th is “3 percent solution” became one of Brown’s major goals in consultations with other NATO defense ministers and heads of government. Th e secretary worked equally hard within the U.S. government, where the Offi ce of Management and Budget (OMB) fought a determined rearguard eff ort to limit defense spending to, at best, token compliance with the NATO nonbinding 3 percent pledge. Worldwide infl ation, which by the later years of the Carter administration fl irted with double digits, complicated Brown’s eff orts to persuade the Europeans to live up to their 3 percent


55

trust in détente with the Soviet Union and not enough in military power to assure Soviet good intentions. Th e tension between Brzezinski’s hard line toward Moscow and Vance’s desire for accommodation is credited with encouraging Carter’s vacillation. Ironically, for his responses to Soviet adventures in the Horn of Africa and its invasion of Afghanistan, Carter has been taken to task for overreacting, for dumping détente, for becoming too hard-line. Th e Iran hostage crisis and failed rescue mission hurt Carter’s reputation and made his administration seem both indecisive and ineff ectual. Th ese characterizations belie some of the real foreign policy successes that Carter, with Brown’s help, accomplished in the Middle East, within NATO, with China, in Panama, in strategic arms limitations, and in the Persian Gulf and Southwest Asia. For a secretary of defense who initially saw his role in foreign policy as limited, by the end of the Carter presidency Brown had gained infl uence within the administration’s foreign policy deliberations and undertook foreign policy missions. He was a crucial adviser in SALT II negotiations with Moscow. He and the Pentagon helped sell the Panama Canal Treaties to a skeptical Congress. Th e president sent Brown on foreign policy missions to the Middle East and Saudi Arabia. Carter entrusted Brown and the Pentagon with the redeployment of the Israeli Sinai airfi elds to the Negev, a signifi cant part of the Egyptian-Israeli peace process.

Not all of Brown’s initiatives succeeded. In South America, he could not convince the White House and the president that the local militaries could be a force for political reform if encouraged by a system of rewards. In Central America, the Pentagon’s urging for military assistance to governments losing ground to insurgencies was only accepted by the White House at the end of the administration. Th e president did not agree with all of the secretary’s and DoD’s advice, but Brown increasingly became a part of the Carter foreign policy team. Th e reluctant diplomat and foreign policy adviser was reluctant no more.


54

As Carter prepared to leave offi ce, the framework for security in the Persian Gulf remained unfi nished. Still, considerable progress had been made. Th ere was a strong Navy–Marine Corps presence in the Indian Ocean and an expanded one in the Arabian Sea and Persian Gulf. Th e Navy also prepositioned in Diego Garcia seven ships with supplies and equipment capable of supporting the dispatch of 12,000 troops. It also purchased eight high-speed container ships capable of rapid deployment to the Middle East. Perhaps most important, DoD created the Rapid Deployment Joint Task Force (RDJTF), headquartered at MacDill Air Force Base in Florida. Brzezinski initially promoted the idea of a “surge force” able to respond to worldwide crises (minus Europe and Korea). Brown smoothed the way by dampening interservice rivalries that threatened to slow down the idea. Under Brown and DoD tutelage, the force concentrated on the Persian Gulf and Southwest Asia rather than the world. While the RDJTF was still in its early stages, it had a command structure responsible for planning, training, military exercises, prepositioning, and potential deployment of forces to the Persian Gulf and Southwest Asia. Most planners saw the force, if called to action, as a means of countering a Soviet intervention in the Persian Gulf or in Southwest Asia (most likely Iran), but they also designed it to counter local confl icts or upheavals that threatened U.S. interests.126 While few could have envisioned the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and resulting Gulf War in 1991, the RDJTF—upgraded to U.S. Central Command in 1983—directed a major war to roll back the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, followed by two additional wars to depose Saddam Hussein and to counter the Taliban in Afghanistan.

Conclusion

At best, Harold Brown is viewed by critics as a technocrat and competent manager of the Pentagon in an administration suff ering from a dysfunctional foreign policy. Th e conventional wisdom holds that Carter’s foreign policy was an unrealistic approach that overemphasized human rights and morality, and placed too much


11

commitment. Th e eff ort required constant nagging of both NATO colleagues and Carter and his budget offi cials. During his fi rst two years Brown fought for a budget that had at least some semblance of 3 percent real growth, asking how the United States could expect NATO members to meet the pledge if it did not. Although the Western European members rarely made the goal (backsliding was endemic to them), they did increase defense expenditures. Within the United States, which provided 60 percent of NATO’s total defense spending and 40 percent of its troops, Brown was able to persuade Carter and an increasingly receptive Congress to approve Defense budgets that, for the fi rst two years at least, had some claim to 3 percent growth, and for the fi nal two years had actually met the goal.21

Th e other great foreign policy challenge within NATO was to persuade members, especially West Germany, to agree to upgrade NATO’s theater nuclear posture. Most important, this required deployment of nuclear-armed Pershing II missiles and ground-launched cruise missiles (GLCMs) on their soil. In addition, the Carter administration fl oated a plan to introduce a new nuclear weapon, the enhanced radiation weapon (ERW), known better as the “neutron bomb.” ERWs were more accurate and reliable, required less fi ssionable material, and produced smaller nuclear explosions (about one-tenth the size of the Army’s existing atomic shells). What made the ERWs such an innovation was that they yielded high levels of lethal radiation, making them ideal for use against Warsaw Pact tanks and their crews. Since they caused less collateral damage to buildings and infrastructures, ERWs seemed well suited to a potential war in congested West Germany.22

Bombs that killed people but saved buildings—as critics soon dubbed them—created a public relations nightmare. As hard as they tried, Brown and his staff could not overcome the public hysteria in the United States and Europe, especially West Germany, about these people-killer weapons. Brown sent Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Aff airs (ISA) David McGiff ert


10





55




54


Conclusion



11





12

to convince the West Germans of the necessity to deploy ERWs. Th e Germans refused to agree to a deployment until the United States produced the weapons. And Carter was unprepared to produce without the commitment to deploy. Brown and Vance received confi rmation that the West Germans would consider coupling a prohibition of ERW production with an arms limitation proposal on a new Soviet theater nuclear weapon, the powerful mobile SS–20 missile, introduced into Eastern Europe. When the Soviets turned down the proposal, the West Germans and other NATO members would have good cover to accept deployment of the neutron bomb. It was a good solution, but Carter at the last moment pulled back. He could not authorize deployment of ERWs and be known as the president who approved nuclear weapons that killed only people (an oversimplifi cation, Carter realized, but the popular perception). He did agree to build new warheads so that they could be converted to ERWs (the Reagan administration produced and deployed them, but only in U.S.-based stockpiles). Th e bungling of the ERW issue became a rallying cry for Carter opponents who painted him as an inexperienced president too ready to seek the intellectual comfort of his own moral high ground. Th ey saw dire consequences in the loss of confi dence in Washington by the Europeans and loss of respect by the Soviets. In retrospect, the damage was not that lasting, mainly because the Carter administration succeeded in obtaining agreement to deploy Pershing IIs and GLCMs in Western Europe.23

To deploy Pershing IIs and GLCMs, the Western European NATO allies faced strong popular opposition from antinuclear and antiwar groups, which constituted large segments of their civilian populations, as well as from powerful elements within their own opposition and governing parties. Th e Soviet Union propaganda apparatus played into this sentiment. In negotiations with the Europeans during 1978 and 1979, the same pattern as with ERW negotiations emerged. West German Chancellor Helmet Schmidt was prepared to agree to deploy only if another continental NATO ally also did so. Schmidt further required a parallel track of arms


53

U.S. forces in a Persian Gulf emergency. Th e Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the Iran hostage crisis persuaded Carter to follow through on Brown’s recommendations and go even further. For example, the president ordered another carrier battle group led by the USS Coral Sea to join the USS Nimitz carrier battle group, in the Indian Ocean since January 1979.123

In his State of the Union speech of January 1980, the president enunciated the Carter Doctrine, putting the Soviets on notice that an attempt by “an outside force to gain control of the Persian Gulf region” would be considered an assault on U.S. vital interests and would be repelled by military force. It fell to DoD to create the “cooperative framework for security” that Carter promised in his speech. Technical teams traveled to Kenya, Oman, and Somalia to assess options for base access, followed by political teams to negotiate the deals. Diego Garcia underwent an upgrade. Komer threw himself into this process, realizing the real problem was the inability to deploy troops and equipment quickly enough to forestall a Soviet attack in the area. His answer was better access and transit rights, additional rapid airlift and sealift capabilities, prepositioning of supplies, and Saudi willingness to overbuild air bases to allow for U.S. use in an emergency. Th e White House and NSC staff responded positively to these suggestions, noting that they were already implementing many of them.124

Brown considered a U.S. base at Ras Banas vital. He received Carter’s permission to negotiate a deal with the Egyptians that would pay for upgrading the facilities there. Th e secretary envisioned the base as a staging area for U.S. troops and prepositioned supplies that could provide a safe complex to support combat operations in the Gulf. Only 800 kilometers from the Gulf, yet out of hostile tactical aircraft range, Ras Banas could also provide a regional training venue and a base for B–52 interdiction operations. But upgrading cost estimates rose from $250 million to $350 million. For their part, the Egyptians were unwilling to provide a written base agreement to show Congress, which refused to fund the project without one.

Th e project died.125


52

Komer. Brown came on board later. In late 1978, after a Middle East and East Africa trip, Duncan argued that with a small military investment (U.S. naval visits, joint military exercises, and modest security and fi nancial assistance for poorer countries), the United States could make a diff erence. He called for a review of policy in the Persian Gulf and East African littoral. During this review, OSD offi cials formed a loose alliance with Brzezinski’s NSC staff , especially his military adviser, General William Odom, to press for more proactive steps in the area.121

Brown made his own trip to the area in early 1979 not only to sell the Egyptian-Israeli Peace Treaty but also to scout ways to increase U.S. military presence in the region. He promoted the idea of contingent operating bases, which involved the use of local military facilities in a crisis. When he returned to Washington, Brown continued to review policy in the Persian Gulf. He recommended regular bilateral security consultations with selected Gulf States, responsiveness to requests for arms sales and/or credits to all friends in the area, and participation in joint exercises to improve readiness of local forces. Brown also urged increasing MIDEASTFOR by two or three surface ships; increasing routine PACOM naval deployments to the Indian Ocean, including deployment of a carrier group with one or two Marine air-ground task forces; and tactical air training and exercises with local air forces. For the longer term, the secretary called for a continuous U.S. naval presence in the Indian Ocean, access and overfl ight rights to allow emergency deployment of troops to the Persian Gulf, prepositioning of equipment and supplies there, and expansion of the facilities at Diego Garcia.122

In late 1979 Carter approved negotiations to establish a small U.S. air base in Oman and a naval base in Berbera, Somalia, or Mombasa, Kenya. Brown reported he had some success in obtaining limited access for U.S. AWACS aircraft to the Egyptian air base at Wadi Qena, but had yet to nail down approval for a U.S. facility at Ras Banas, located on a peninsula that jutted into the Red Sea (Egypt’s western-most point) that could be used by


13

limitation negotiations with the Soviets to provide political cover for the deployment. Brown and McGiff ert plugged away in consultations with the NATO allies. Brown recalled a private meeting with the German chancellor in which he told Schmidt, in undiplomatic terms, that “the American president can aff ord to have the German chancellor unhappy with him, but the German chancellor really can’t aff ord to have the American president unhappy with him. So, let’s try to fi nd a way through this for your benefi t as much as ours.”24

Italy agreed to deploy GLCMs, fulfi lling the Schmidt requirement that West Germany not have to go it alone (Great Britain also agreed to GCLMs; the Netherlands and Belgium eventually followed). Since the weapons would not deploy until 1983, plenty of time remained to discuss reducing theater nuclear weapons with the Soviets. Brown himself had no illusions about forging a unifi ed NATO position on how to deal with the Soviets on this issue, noting, “We will fi nd this negotiation with the Allies a long and hard one. We need patience, persistence, and determination; we also need to be fi rm at times.”25 Th e problems Brown feared turned out to be less formidable because the Soviet proposals in 1980 seemed little more than a series of ploys to reverse the NATO decision to upgrade its theater nuclear forces. Still, the West Germans hoped for a successful agreement. At Brown’s strong recommendation, Carter took Schmidt to task in private for fl oating the idea of a three-year moratorium on NATO deployment of Pershing IIs and GLCMs in return for a Soviet agreement not to deploy any more SS–20s. In Brown’s mind, the delay just legitimized the Soviet theater nuclear force lead, given that SS–20s had already been deployed. Schmidt, who needed a political success during a trip to Moscow, was furious. Still, the agreement held, and in 1983 the Reagan administration deployed Pershing IIs and GLCMs in Western Europe and Great Britain.26

Brown believed this agreement and the subsequent deployment marked a turning point in the Cold War. In eff ect, they both indicated that the United States and NATO were not prepared


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to let the Soviet Union dominate Western Europe by theater nuclear force superiority. Brown also noted that the U.S. military technological innovations of the late 1970s—precision-guided munitions, stealth technology, and integrated surveillance, intelligence, reconnaissance, and communications systems—profoundly infl uenced the Soviet Union. Having found themselves checked in Western Europe and losing the technology race, Soviet leaders looked to their own house for reform and change.27 While the impact on Moscow of these developments is diffi cult to assess without more evidence from the Soviet leadership itself, the Carter administration’s success in forging a NATO agreement on theater nuclear modernization (paving the way for deployment in 1983) was no doubt part of a process that presented the Kremlin with some tough choices. Th e agreement to modernize NATO’s theater nuclear forces succeeded against not only Soviet opposition but strong domestic political opposition in Western Europe itself.

Korea, Japan, China, and the Philippines

Carter came to offi ce in January 1977 determined to reduce the U.S. military presence in East Asia and to establish relations with the People’s Republic of China, the latter requiring termination of the long-standing military relationship with the Republic of China on Taiwan. Brown found himself caught between the president’s agenda and the concern of the military and many in Congress that the president’s plans were too precipitous to provide adequate security for U.S. interests in East Asia.

South Korea illustrated Brown’s dilemma most vividly. Th e president had promised during the 1976 campaign to withdraw U.S. combat troops from South Korea. Th e services and defense specialists thought it a bad idea. Brown felt confl icted, but fell in with his leader by rationalizing that an economically growing South Korea could be protected by U.S. air and naval forces outside the peninsula.28 A problem soon emerged: some in the intelligence community concluded that North Korea was becoming substantially stronger


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the future.” Carter’s loss in the 1980 election meant that the Reagan administration sold the F–16s. It went on to forge a much stronger relationship with Islamabad, uncomplicated by concerns about nonproliferation, human rights, or evenhandedness with India.118

Th e Framework for Security in the Persian Gulf

Ever since the 1973 oil embargo, the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), a worldwide cartel, kept a fi rm rein on production and thus the price of crude oil, retaining a powerful lever over the world’s economies. Th e Carter administration sought to break OPEC’s stranglehold on oil production by energy conservation practices, development of domestic sources, and creation of an oil consumer organization to counterbalance OPEC.119 A corollary of this energy policy required that the United States and its allies protect their oil sources in the Middle East and Persian Gulf from either outside threat—the Soviet Union—or internal upheaval such as occurred in Iran. U.S. military assets in the area were limited. Th e U.S. Middle East Force (MIDEASTFOR) consisted of a fl agship and two surface combatants operating in the Arabian Sea and the Persian Gulf, periodically augmented by four combatant vessels (sometimes including an aircraft carrier) and logistical ships from the U.S. Pacifi c Command (PACOM) that made periodic deployments of about 50 days to the Indian Ocean. Th e United States had no bases; its closest was Diego Garcia, a tiny atoll in the western Indian Ocean (2,000 miles from the Strait of Hormuz), rented from the British. As was made painfully clear during deliberations on potential military operations against a post-shah Iran, the United States had severely limited access to staging grounds or bases in the area, circumscribing the ability to project power there.120

Brzezinski claimed much of the credit for remedying this situation. While he proved to be a prime mover, he enjoyed considerable support from DoD offi cials, including the Joint Chiefs, Deputy Secretary Duncan, his successor W. Graham Claytor Jr., and


50

the USSR. Unrealized at the time, the alliance between the Afghan successor regime, the Taliban, and a small anti-Western terrorist group, al-Qaeda, would have appalling consequences in September 2001.

Events in Afghanistan directly aff ected longtime U.S. ally Pakistan. By 1977 relations between Washington and Islamabad had deteriorated as the Carter administration followed a more evenhanded policy in its military sales to Pakistan and India. Pakistan’s eff ort to develop an atomic bomb, in clear opposition to Carter’s nuclear nonproliferation campaign, won the military government in Islamabad no friends in the White House. In DoD, however, support for Pakistan remained strong.117

Policy toward Pakistan thus divided into two camps. DoD, the military advisers on the NSC staff , and Brzezinski favored a pro-Pakistan approach, while the State Department and the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency opposed an increase in military sales to Pakistan. In early February 1980 David McGiff ert went to Pakistan with Warren Christopher and Brzezinski. Upon his return, McGiff ert promoted military sales to Islamabad that would allow it to defend its border with Afghanistan, where Soviet/Afghan forces had already engaged in hot pursuit of the mujahideen. Pakistan, a key ally in the support for the Afghan resistance, provided sanctuary and a conduit for getting weapons to them. In summer 1980 Brown, who had not been much involved with Pakistan, appealed to the president for a better security relationship. Brown obtained approval for the sale of 60 tanks and the transfer of two obsolete U.S. destroyers, but the president balked at selling F–16s to Pakistan, even though India enjoyed virtual air superiority over its old rival.

All was not lost on aircraft. When Carter met Pakistan President Mohammad Zia-ul-Hak in September 1980, he was impressed and changed his mind: “I met with Zia and liked him. He’s calm, I think very courageous, intelligent. He’s willing to accommodate refugees coming into Pakistan from Afghanistan. . . . We’ll sell them F–16s in


15

militarily. Carter disregarded this assessment and ordered plans for withdrawals to begin. Th e Joint Chiefs of Staff reluctantly accepted this instruction, but some in the Army opposed it. Th e commander of U.S. forces in Korea, General John Vessey, met with Brown and then the president to explain his concern. Vessey’s chief of staff , Maj. Gen. John Singlaub, went public with his opposition. Brown recalled Singlaub to Washington and Carter personally reassigned him, creating a hero and martyr for opponents of the withdrawal policy. Military commanders in Korea were unanimous in the view that a rapid pullout was “not a viable option.”29

Withdrawal plans also caused consternation in Seoul. Brown and Vance sent JCS Chairman General George Brown and Under Secretary of State for Political Aff airs Philip Habib to Seoul to explain the decision, beginning a long negotiation with South Korean President Park Chung Hee about the timing and extent of the withdrawal and how the Republic of Korea (ROK) armed forces would be modernized to compensate for the U.S. pullback. Before the Seoul Security Consultative Meeting (SCM) in July 1977, Brown obtained presidential approval of myriad inducements to off er the ROK, such as a withdrawal of support troops fi rst, additional tactical fi ghters stationed in South Korea, joint military exercises, coproduction of weapons, and a massive security package of $800 million.30

As it turned out, Brown’s eff ort went for naught because Congress refused to fund the withdrawal, the transfer of equipment, and the security assistance package. In April 1978, at the urging of Brown and Brzezinski, Carter scaled back his withdrawal plan to 700 combat and 2,600 support troops with more to follow later.31 Brown traveled to Seoul in November 1978, hoping to confi rm to Park that the United States would sell F–16 fi ghter aircraft to South Korea, giving the South an edge in the air until 1990. Th e sale would also pave the way for future U.S. combat withdrawals. Carter disapproved the sale, and Brown met Park essentially empty-handed. Th e trip lost its luster.32


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To make matters worse, a Defense Intelligence Agency assessment of the North, then generally accepted by most of the U.S. intelligence community, leaked to the public in January 1979. In plain words, the leaked assessment concluded that Carter’s withdrawal would invite an attack from the North.33 Carter’s advisers, including Brown, agreed it was time to rethink the withdrawal policy. A resulting PRM study stated that even with timely U.S. air, naval, and logistical support, South Korean forces could not stop a North Korean invasion without U.S. combat troops. Carter reluctantly agreed, but held off making a fi nal decision until he could meet face-to-face with Park.34

Th e next month Carter, Brown, Vance, and Brzezinski visited Seoul. Th e trip proved a fi asco. Carter and Park instantly rubbed each other the wrong way. Park complained about the withdrawal, hyping the threat from the North. Th e president passed Brown a note stating that if Park continued like this he would withdraw all U.S. troops from South Korea. Carter countered to Park that he was withdrawing only 3,000 (actually 3,300) of 42,000 authorized troops, lectured the ROK president on human rights, and chided him for not spending as much on defense based on a percentage of gross national product as the United States did. Th e Korean promised to spend more on defense, but the trip had not obtained Park’s agreement on withdrawals.35

After returning to Washington, Brzezinski, Brown, and Vance all recommended that Carter withdraw only one I-Hawk surface-to-air missile battalion and 1,500 support troops, revisiting further withdrawals in 1981 during Carter’s expected second term. Th e president agreed but washed his hands of Korea, instructing Brown to consult with Congress and Brzezinski to make the announcement.36

Carter’s decision left Korean policy to Vance, Brown, and Brzezinski. While the long, drawn out withdrawal saga had weakened U.S.-ROK relations, four interrelated events disrupted them even more: the assassination of President Park; the political rise of a new military strongman, Chun Do Hwan; the student-


49

Th e Carter administration’s response to naked Soviet aggression in Afghanistan was primarily clandestine action. Even before the Soviet invasion, the United States began a cautious and modest program of secret operations to support Afghan insurgents, the mujahideen (holy warriors), that included propaganda support, humanitarian relief, and nonlethal aid. OSD offi cials argued that this secret campaign, espoused by an NSC group, concentrated too much on propaganda and not enough on assistance that would make a diff erence. After the Soviet invasion of December 1979, a shocked Carter instituted a series of diplomatic, economic, and cultural steps to protest the invasion, including calling off U.S. participation in the 1980 Moscow Olympics. Most important, the United States increased its support of the Afghan rebels, adding the purchase of lethal weapons and communications equipment in conjunction with other interested states in the area. Th e United States encountered diffi culties in procuring the weapons the mujahideen needed, such as the Soviet shoulder-fi red SA–7 missile able to bring down helicopters or prop planes, as Moscow and the Eastern bloc clamped down on international sales of them.115

Fighting basically with captured weapons—few arms were actually reaching them in 1980—the mujahideen performed well, but the insurgency assumed the classic stalemate of a guerrilla war. Th e Soviets controlled the cities, the air space, and lines of communication. Th ey could move around by convoy or air, but the rebels held the countryside. Th e Afghan army was a shell of a force, requiring the Soviet troops to assume most of the fi ghting. Under Secretary of Defense for Policy Robert Komer argued that the stalemate off ered the possibility of keeping the resistance going for years and draining Soviet resources.116

After Carter lost in 1980, President Ronald Reagan and Director of Central Intelligence William Casey, with key supporters in Congress, increased clandestine support of the Afghan resistance, allowing it to wear down and eventually defeat the Soviets, and deal a serious blow to the Soviet Empire and the Communist Party’s dominance in


48

between Brown and White House Chief of Staff Hamilton Jordan epitomized the situation: “We are in a box, Harold. We’ve broken relations with Iran and imposed sanctions, but we still have no leverage on Khomeini. Brown replied: “Neither the naval blockade nor mining harbors will bring the hostages home.” Jordan interjected: “Except in boxes.” Th e two men agreed that rescue was “the best of a lousy set of options.”114

Th e abortive rescue operation of April 1980, a military operation that ended tragically in the Iranian desert, is beyond the scope of this study. Suffi ce it to say that Brown took full responsibility for its failure, which had a devastating impact on the morale of Carter and his advisers as well as on the president’s future electoral chances. Nor was DoD involved in the frustrating diplomatic negotiations that also undercut the Carter presidency. In addition, the Iran debacle revealed a void in the U.S. ability to project its power into the Persian Gulf, as DoD ruled out one military option after another against Iran. Th e rescue mission, called off for the lack of one helicopter, did nothing to diminish the perception of U.S. weakness.

Th e Islamic revolution that overthrew the shah represented only one of the dramatic events in the Middle East, the Persian Gulf, and Southwest Asia that shook the underpinnings of U.S. policy across the region. In April 1978 Marxist/Leninist Afghan politicians overthrew their government, altering the nonaligned status of this traditional buff er state. In December 1979 the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan ostensibly to aid and to sustain the communist revolution there. With Iran under a hostile theocracy and Afghanistan’s government and major cities under Soviet domination, the Carter administration faced uncertainty and instability in Southwest Asia. Pakistan emerged as the principal regional bulwark against these setbacks, but it was hardly an ideal candidate to defend Southwest Asia. In addition, Carter’s national security team explored ways to improve the United States’ ability to project its power in the Persian Gulf and Southwest Asia.


17

worker uprising in Kwangju Province; and the Chun government’s planned execution of major political opponent Kim Dae Jung. Th e bizarre assassination of Park on 26 October 1979 by his Korean central intelligence agency director took Washington by surprise. Carter was on vacation, leaving Brown, Vance, and Brzezinski to deal with the crisis, which turned out to be a sordid aff air fueled by too much alcohol and internal ROK rivalries.37

Th e subsequent rise of General Chun Do Hwan and his takeover of the country in all but name in December 1979 provided new challenges. When Chun cracked down on student and political opponents, Brown postponed the 1980 Security Consultative Meeting with South Korea against the advice of Ambassador William Gleysteen and General John Wickham, the commander in chief of U.S. forces in Korea. 38 Chun’s government responded to demonstrations in Seoul and Kwangju with martial law and repression. When demonstrations broke out into an armed rebellion in Kwangju, the government reacted with excessive force, implying that the United States had sanctioned such a violent put-down. In Washington, Carter’s advisers (including Brown) concluded that the ROK had to restore order in Kwangju before Washington could resume pressure for reform and political liberalization. Th ey never gave Chun the green light to crack down on dissidents, nor were they asked to do so.39

Unwilling to forgive and forget, Brown remained an opponent of Chun and his military junta. He argued for continued deferral of SCM meetings and refusal to place U.S. troops in Korea under the Combined Forces Command, so as not “to do them any favors that help legitimize the new crowd.”40 When dissident political leader Kim Dae Jung was found guilty of fomenting the Kwangju uprising—a patently trumped-up charge—Carter assigned Brown the unenviable task of traveling to Seoul in December 1980 to persuade Chun to commute the sentence. Brown failed, but the incoming Reagan administration saved Kim with a promise to Chun, by then the newly elected ROK president (2,500 handpicked Electoral College members voted him in), of a visit to Washington in early 1981.41


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Korean policy was hardly a success. On the other hand, Carter’s China policy of normalizing relations with Beijing proved a major accomplishment. Brown successfully reintroduced DoD to China policy from which it had been shut out during the Nixon-Ford-Kissinger years. Unlike Brzezinski, Brown did not want to poke the China card in the Soviet Union’s eye. He emphasized the off set value of China in the U.S.-Soviet military balance, given that 20 percent of Soviet military assets faced China. Brown argued for early normalization of relations and a rough parallelism of U.S. military relations with the Soviet Union and China.42

After Washington and Beijing established full diplomatic relations in January 1979, Vice President Walter Mondale visited China. A year later Brown was the next high-level visitor to trek to the Middle Kingdom, the fi rst secretary of defense to do so. Just before he left, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in late December 1979. Carter revised Brown’s instructions to allow discussion of the sale of U.S. nonlethal military equipment and some high-technology transfers to China.43 Brown also received last minute authorization to consult on how to deal with Afghanistan and to support Pakistan. When Brown met with Deng Xiaoping, the Chinese premier made it clear that coordinating anti-Soviet policy was fi ne as long as it was more than “symbolic.” Deng continued prophetically: “We must turn Afghanistan into a quagmire in which the Soviet Union is bogged down for a long time, engaged in guerrilla warfare.” Brown agreed, but noted that “we must keep our intentions confi dential.” Discounted by pundits at the time, who expected an announcement of a joint strategy on Afghanistan, the trip laid the foundation for a Sino-American military relationship.44

Normalization of relations with Beijing ended the close U.S. military relationship with Taiwan. Brown oversaw an extensive drawdown of U.S. military facilities on the island. Th e fi rst controversial issue the administration tackled was what all-weather interceptor fi ghter aircraft the United States should sell to Taiwan before normalization. DoD, State, and JCS recommended a


47

the end of Carter’s term. Brown and DoD were responsible for examining military operations that could punish Iran after the hostages were released (Carter’s initial inclination), encourage Iran to be more forthcoming in negotiations for their release, or discourage Iran from harming the captives. Unlike many in the Carter administration who expected the hostages to be released quickly, Brown worried that it “may be a long crisis.” He suggested and received presidential authorization to move U.S. military forces closer to Iran so as to improve the prospects for military action should the need arise.112

Although he believed that diplomacy was the best option for the time being, Brown worried that time would sap the U.S. case and diminish international support for the hostages’ release. He considered the mining of Iran’s harbors (instead of the more intensive and risky options of blockading ports, bombing Iran’s oil refi nery on Kharg Island, or bombing the Iranian air force) as the best eventual military action. Mining, although an act of war, was a “bloodless act of war, like invading an embassy and taking hostages,” according to Brown. Carter seemed receptive, but he preferred to give economic sanctions a chance, especially given that there was still some hope that negotiations might succeed.113

By March 1980 negotiations seemed to be getting nowhere. Th e next month Carter again asked for military operations, but by this time Brown decided that mining was not a viable option for several reasons: the Soviets could sweep the mines; mining would also close the principal Iraqi oil port of Basra (Iraq was considered a potential friend); it might encourage retaliation against the hostages; and it would diminish support within the Islamic world for the U.S. case. Carter’s advisers, including Brown, successfully persuaded him to go the rescue route. When negotiations for the hostage release collapsed, Carter broke diplomatic relations with Iran, declared an embargo on U.S. exports to Iran, and allowed claims to be made against frozen Iranian assets in the United States. A conversation

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Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, was poised to return to Iran. Confused and dejected, the Iranian High Command vacillated between supporting the Bakhtiar government, mounting a military coup, or cutting a deal with Khomeini. With Khomeini’s return imminent, Brown probed Huyser about what circumstances would require a coup and whether there was a specifi c window of opportunity for such action. Huyser replied that the more time the generals had the better, but they were “psychologically prepared to act.” Brown asked if a coup would involve many casualties. Huyser answered yes.110

Huyser’s advice proved overly optimistic. As Eric von Marbod, the deputy director of the Defense Security Assistance Agency, reported from Tehran (where he was working out arrangements to terminate the military assistance program), the generals could not stage a coup because they could not count on the support of their troops. When Khomeini returned, the Iranian High Command disintegrated and the Bakthiar government was replaced by one controlled by Khomeini and the other religious leaders. In retrospect, Brown candidly summed up the U.S. dilemma about the coup possibility: “[It] was an attractive idea. Th e trouble was that he [Huyser] was pushing at the wet end of a stick.”111

U.S. fortunes in Iran went from bad to worse when, on 4 November 1979, Iranian radical students seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, taking 63 hostages (an additional three were at the Iranian Foreign Ministry; six escaped to the Canadian Embassy residence and were rescued in a later operation). Of the 66 hostages, 28 were military or DoD employees. For the remainder of the Carter presidency, the crisis dominated foreign and national security policy, engaging Carter and his top advisers, including Brown, in almost endless meetings on how to free the hostages.

Th e White House and the State Department, both responsible for the negotiating eff orts to release the hostages, endured a long, frustrating series of dead ends and dashed hopes that lasted until


19

souped-up, export-only version of the F–5E Tiger II. ACDA and OMB opposed the sale (the former for arms control reasons, the latter for fi nancial). Carter off ered only more F–5E aircraft, which Taiwan already had, and/or Israeli Kfi r interceptors with U.S. engines. Taiwan turned down the deal.45

Th e next issue centered on what arms the United States would sell to Taiwan after the one-year embargo following the 1 January 1979 normalization of relations with China. Brown and JCS Chairman General David Jones assured senators that Taiwan was secure and an invasion from the mainland unlikely, but Congress insisted on U.S. sales suffi cient to defend the island. Just before Brown went to Beijing, the Carter administration announced the sale of $287 million in defensive weapons, almost all older weapons that Taiwan already possessed.46

Given the conservative nature of Japanese security policy, Korean withdrawal plans and the normalization of relations with China upset the leadership in Tokyo. Th e traditional U.S.-Japan relationship seemed to be changing. Brown took on the major responsibility for reassuring the Japanese that their security relations with the United States remained sound and permanent. During his numerous trips to Japan—more than twice as many as Secretary Vance made—and with visiting Japanese leaders in Washington, Brown pressed for more Japanese defense spending, improved joint U.S.-Japanese defense planning, and a larger role in regional security for the Japan Self-Defense Forces (JSDF). It could be an exasperating task. Japan’s 1947 American-written constitution, the Japanese perception that the Soviet Union and China did not pose real threats, and the nation’s post-World War II commitment to antimilitarism made it hard to persuade Japanese leaders to attain the goal of 1 percent of GNP spending on defense. Th e secretary warned the president that the Japanese were unlikely to quicken “their tortoise-like pace” on defense. He hoped that during the next fi ve years the JSDF would be able to perform its own air defense, broaden its antisubmarine coverage, assume a


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greater share of the Northern Pacifi c sea lane defense, and improve its logistics capability.47 In late 1978 Brown reported from Tokyo that he had seen “ample evidence of a substantial increase in US-Japanese defense cooperation.”48

Unfortunately these improvements fell victim to the recession and infl ation of 1979 and 1980 that gripped both the United States and Japan. Th e powerful Japanese Finance Ministry vetoed the Japanese Defense Ministry’s modest plans for increased spending, causing Brown to comment: “I hope the Japanese Finance Ministry is prepared to defend Japan from external attack,” because their cuts would discourage the United States from doing so. Brown’s chagrin at this setback did not diminish his overall achievements in Japan during his tenure.49

Oversight of DoD renegotiations of the U.S.-Philippine base agreements for the Subic Bay naval complex and Clark Air Base comprised Brown’s fi nal foreign policy tasks in East Asia. Philippines President Ferdinand Marcos demanded “rent” for the bases and more control over them. Brown directed a task force that promoted the concept of “Filipinization,” which gave the Philippines jurisdiction over the bases, but also carried a monetary value—the worth of the returned facilities to the Philippines, defense cooperation, direct-hire and contractual services of Filipinos, and transfer of excess property—that could be added to the compensation deal. Neither Brown nor the task force would recommend that the United States pay “rent,” but it would provide military assistance as approved by Congress. DoD considered Clark useful and deemed Subic crucial. Th e U.S. Air Force agreed to reduce its presence by 25–30 percent at Clark; and the Navy by 5–7 percent at Subic. Brown agreed with the JCS recommendation to delay these reductions until after the South Korean withdrawals, lest the two send an adverse signal about the U.S. commitment in East Asia and the Western Pacifi c.50

As DoD prepared for base negotiations, Carter, who had no love for a human rights abuser like Marcos, eliminated $18.1 million in


45

a second car, were held at gunpoint by a soldier until the Iranians accompanying Mrs. Duncan talked the soldier into standing down and allowing them to proceed. At the end of December 1978, the shah’s opponents closed down the oil fi elds and refi neries. Assistant Secretary McGiff ert suggested that “the time has come to begin disassociating ourselves from the shah’s rule (as distinguished from his reign),” since “supporting a politically weak government propped up by military forces, is not a likely formula for success.” Brown commented: “Th e Shah’s absolute power is over in any event. Th e question is what the new distribution of power will be and (to us) whether those who exercise it will be pro-American.”108

Th e “moment of truth” came in January 1979, according to U.S. Ambassador William Sullivan. Carter authorized Sullivan to reinforce the shah’s decision to create a civilian government and assure him of a welcome in the United States should he chose to leave. Duncan suggested sending Army General Robert “Dutch” Huyser, deputy commander of the U.S. European Command, to Tehran to consult with the Iranian military. Th e Huyser mission became the focal point for OSD and Brown in the unfolding crisis that led to the fall of the shah and the establishment of an Islamic government. Huyser was to gauge the strength of the Iranian military and assure the generals they had U.S. support. At Brzezinski’s urging and with Brown’s support, Huyser had a second objective: to encourage a military coup if the new civilian government of Shapour Bakhtiar, or any new government that replaced it, threatened the stability of the Iranian armed forces and society.109

Carter welcomed the advice of Dutch Huyser, whom he saw as a better source of information than the “biased and erroneous” Sullivan. Huyser “followed orders;” Sullivan was “insubordinate.” Two sets of reports from Tehran reached Washington: one from Sullivan and the embassy, and one from Huyser through Brown. Carter listened to Huyser, disregarding Sullivan. As the ailing shah (his terminal cancer was not known at the time) left Tehran on 16 January 1979, the exiled spiritual leader of Iranian Shiites,


44

(minus the bomb racks) and the sale of AWACS. Meeting in late November, Carter agreed to the sale of AIM–9L Sidewinders and fuel tanks, but not refueling capability. In lieu of the AWACS sale, the United States would continue its AWACS patrols over the kingdom. Brown favored selling the aerial tankers and bomb racks, but felt he had to consult with the Reagan transition team. Since Reagan’s team refused to be tied down, Brown sent Sultan a letter (two weeks after the deadline of the ultimatum) stating that after consultation with Secretary of State-designate Alexander Haig and Secretary of Defense-designate Caspar Weinberger, he found them “sympathetic” to the Saudi requests. Th e baton passed to the next administration.106

Iran, Afghanistan, and Southwest Asia

Iran was the rock on which the Carter presidency fl oundered. Th e collapse of the government of U.S. ally Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi at the hands of the Iranian Islamic revolution ended the long-held U.S. strategy of relying on Iran as the policeman of the Persian Gulf. Th e subsequent Iran hostage crisis sapped the life out of the Carter administration. Th e shah’s White Revolution of modernization and social transformation, backed up by authoritarian rule, put him on a collision course with Islamic fundamentalists and militant young Iranians. It also did not help that the shah had an almost insatiable appetite for the purchase of sophisticated weapons that sopped up Iran’s oil revenues. Th ese pressures, dismissed by the U.S. intelligence community, threatened to topple the shah.107

In late 1978 the Carter administration explored the possibilities of persuading the shah to accept a moderate civilian coalition or form a military government. Brown received a fi rsthand report that all was not well in Iran. Deputy Secretary Duncan visited Iran in December 1978, reporting back to the secretary that he had heard gunfi re throughout the night in Tehran. When traveling back from Isfahan, his wife and his military aide, Col. Colin Powell, riding in


21

military assistance and $18.5 in foreign military sales (FMS) credits to the Philippines. Th e secretary told the president this was no way to begin base negotiations. Carter restored the cuts in military assistance and sales but insisted that further grants had to be off ered as quid pro quos for the bases.51 After visits to Manila by Vice President Mondale and Senator Daniel Inouye (D–HI), the United States upped its off er to Marcos to $500 million in security assistance over fi ve years, Philippine jurisdiction over the bases, and a return of half the acreage of the bases. Although Congress would have to appropriate the money, the Carter administration promised “its best eff ort” to obtain the funding. Marcos accepted. Th e deal represented a good faith eff ort to meet the Philippines’ demands for compensation while allowing the United States to continue anchoring its forces in the Western Pacifi c and Indian Ocean.52

SALT II

Carter inherited the second Strategic Arms Limitation Talks from the Ford administration, which had worked out a basic agreement with the Soviets at Vladivostok in November 1974. Hard-liners in the Republican Party thought it fl awed. Two issues predominated: How would the U.S. cruise missile (CM) fi t into the agreement, and was the new Soviet Tu–22M bomber, known in the West as the Backfi re, a strategic weapon? Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld successfully delayed the deal. Brown saw this as a plus since the Vladivostok agreement would have limited air-launched cruise missiles (ALCMs) as well as ground- and sea-launched missiles (GLCMs and SLCMs) to a range of 600 kilometers. Brown and OSD wanted to ensure that the United States had the option under SALT II of loading multiple nuclear or nonnuclear cruise missiles with adequate range (2,500 kilometers) on bombers of its own choice, presenting the Soviet Union with an off ensive weapon diffi cult to counter. He also did not want to limit the potential of GLCMs and SLCMs to only 600 kilometers. By the mid-1970s smaller and more effi cient engines and ground tracking systems gave cruise missiles (a relatively old technology) great promise. Brown sought to ensure that the Department of State


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SALT II



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and the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency did not trade away the potential of CMs for a quick and easy SALT II agreement.53

Brown had some advantages during deliberations in Washington about SALT II. An expert in nuclear weapons and conversant with SALT technical issues, he had been an adviser to SALT I before joining the Carter team. During early 1977 policy discussions at Special Coordination Committee meetings Brown took the lead. If Brown supported a specifi c SALT initiative, Carter and the White House (although not SALT II critics) could feel assured it was both feasible and not detrimental to U.S. interests. Furthermore, the Senate had to ratify SALT II. Th e Joint Chiefs of Staff would need to bless the treaty in Senate hearings. With his good relations with the Chiefs, Brown provided the conduit for JCS approval.54

Carter insisted on presenting the Soviets with the so-called Comprehensive/Deep Cuts Proposal in early 1977 in an attempt to jump-start the negotiations. Th e proposal drastically limited the number of strategic nuclear delivery systems for both sides, but retained the 2,500km limit for ALCMs in return for accepting the Soviet assertion that the Backfi re was not a strategic weapon. When the Soviets rejected the proposal as too advantageous to the United States, some arms control proponents grumbled that Brown’s insistence on the 2,500km limit had doomed the deal.55

Th e Carter administration regrouped, fashioned SALT II initiatives that would defer the Backfi re and CM issues until SALT III negotiations, and envisioned both a shorter protocol lasting two years (later changed to three) and a treaty extending to 1985. U.S. policymakers included in the SALT II protocol the Soviet 600km limitation on the range of all CMs, except those launched from heavy bombers. Brown disagreed. To DoD, this would eliminate GLCMs and SLCMs as theater nuclear forces or as longer-range conventional weapons for at least the term of the protocol. It might set the precedent for future limitations since the Soviets continued to maintain that the 600km limit should extend through the end


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Th e meeting on 26 June 1980 with Sultan lasted seven hours. Brown reported to the president that “I think we have defused the F–15 issue,” but he warned that the Saudis expected more approvals after the presidential election. As for AWACS aircraft, Brown fi nessed the issue by off ering to deploy U.S.-piloted and maintained aircraft for joint U.S.-Saudi training and study of their capacity. Brown also raised with Sultan the use of Saudi facilities in the event of a Soviet attack in the Middle East and urged improved U.S.-Saudi military cooperation. A worried Sultan asked if Brown was talking about U.S. bases in his kingdom (the Saudis greatly feared the prospect of American GIs on their soil). Brown answered no bases, just potential use of facilities. A relieved Sultan rose from his chair and shook the secretary’s hand. Th e consensus among the NSC staff was that Brown did a “superb job of delivering the F–15 news” and trying to engage the Saudis in joint planning for defense of the Middle East. Still, Brown reminded the president that the Saudis expected some good news on the F–15 enhancements after the election.104

At the end of September 1980, Iraq invaded Iran, causing great concern in Saudi Arabia. At DoD’s recommendation, the administration rushed four AWACS to Saudi Arabia, with supporting equipment and personnel, and two land-based mobile radar systems as well as military teams to assess and defi ne Saudi needs. Th e Saudis agreed to raise their oil production to make up for the loss of Iraqi oil from the war.105

In the midst of a reelection campaign, Carter had little time for Saudi Arabia. Military sales to the desert kingdom could only hurt his election chances. When news of the F–15 enhancements leaked, Carter confi rmed that the Saudis would get no off ensive capabilities that could be used against Israel, including the bomb racks. Th e Saudis were outraged. Visiting Saudi Arabia in mid-November 1980, JCS Chairman General David Jones received an earful. Without the Big Five, Sultan considered the six F–15s scheduled to arrive shortly valueless. Sultan gave Jones two weeks to come up with an answer on the sale of F–15 enhancements


42

sparsely populated kingdom by dramatically upgrading their air force. With increased range and bomb and missile fi repower, the F–15 became essentially an attack fi ghter that could potentially pose a threat to Israel. To make the issue more controversial, the Saudis were pushing for the F–15 enhancements in 1980, the U.S. presidential election year.

U.S. Ambassador to Saudi Arabia John West argued that the U.S. response to the Big Five provided a “litmus test” of the special relationship between Washington and Riyadh, and a positive response was “no longer an option” but rather “an imperative.” Brown disagreed: “I think this is a terrible idea. It would feed the Saudi’s [sic] delusion that they can defend themselves from external & internal threats with sophisticated weapons they can’t use.” But Brown found himself odd man out as both Brzezinski and Carter agreed with West.102

Brown did persuade the president to allow him to meet with Saudi Defense Minister Prince Sultan before responding to the request for the Big Five. In the secretary’s mind, the U.S.-Saudi relationship had descended into a “Sears and Roebuck” approach of equipment deliveries instead of focusing on the overall military relationship and better absorption and management of weapon systems. Brown hoped to drive home this point with Sultan. Before he traveled to Geneva to meet the Saudi defense minister, Brown conferred with Brzezinski and Secretary of State Edmund Muskie (Vance resigned after the failed Iran hostage rescue mission). Th ey agreed Brown should off er the Saudis only Sidewinders, but promise Sultan they would consult Congress on the conformal fuel tanks, aerial boom tankers, and AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System) aircraft. Th e secretary was enjoined from raising the topic of bomb racks. Brown argued that he should also off er the aerial refueling tankers (a capability denied Israel), but with the proviso that it required congressional approval, and should Congress agree, Israel would demand and probably get the same capability.103


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of the treaty in 1985. Brown and his staff fought a rearguard action against attempts by ACDA and State to off er these and other concessions to the Soviets to gain an agreement.56

In late December 1977 Vance and ACDA Director Paul Warnke informed Carter that “the serious issues remaining were small” and a treaty could be signed in spring 1978.57 Brown disagreed that the issues remaining were inconsequential. Th ey included the U.S. right to decide what aircraft could carry ALCMs and the need to rebut the Soviet contention that CM carriers should be counted as more than one strategic nuclear delivery system in the fi nal SALT II aggregates. Brown opposed the Soviet contention that the treaty should apply to both nuclear and conventional cruise missiles. Th e Backfi re question, in the secretary’s view, was far from resolved. Th e Joint Chiefs of Staff were adamant in their belief that the Backfi re constituted a strategic weapon, a view also held by SALT II critics.58

In SCC meetings that spring, the heated debates on the fi nal details of SALT II between Brown and Warnke sometimes degenerated into shouting matches. Th e ACDA director wanted to button up the agreement. Th e secretary opposed concessions that he believed gave potential advantages to Moscow.59 Brown insisted to Carter that U.S. intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) had to be mobile, with multiple aiming points, or they would be vulnerable to a Soviet fi rst strike by its accurate SS–18 and SS–19 ICBMs. If Moscow refused to accept this proposition, Brown recommended that the president make a unilateral declaration of U.S. intention to produce a mobile ICBM. Carter eventually agreed.60 Negotiations with the Soviets continued. By January 1979 the White House began preparations for a summit to sign the SALT II agreements, but minor although still diffi cult issues prevented an early signing. Finally, in June 1979, with all issues ironed out, the agreement was ready. At a Vienna summit, attended by Brown and JCS Chairman General David Jones, Carter and Brezhnev signed the protocol and the treaty.61


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If SALT II was ever to gain Senate ratifi cation—hardly a sure thing given strong opposition from conservative opponents—it would need JCS approval. Brown had to bring the Chiefs on board, but as he told the president, they were only tepidly in favor of it. Carter proposed to leave for Vienna to sign SALT II without even meeting with the Joint Chiefs, a potential blunder. Brown insisted that he fi nd the time. Carter agreed. Even more important, he agreed to deploy the mobile MX, the largest and most powerful U.S. missile, as the price for JCS support for SALT II.62

As was often the case for the Carter administration, issues did not work out as planned. After the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the president pulled the treaty from the ratifi cation process, knowing that he would never get a two-thirds majority. Nevertheless, Brown’s eff orts to ensure that the agreements did not impair U.S. national security were hardly in vain. While SALT II was never ratifi ed by the Senate, both sides initially abided by its terms and it became the basis for negotiating the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START) negotiated under President Ronald Reagan, signed by President George H. W. Bush in 1991, and ratifi ed in 1994. START I outlived the Cold War itself until it expired in late 2009. In April 2010 President Barack Obama and Russian President Dmitry Medvedev signed a new START, reducing the START I limits on warheads and delivery systems by 74 percent.63 SALT II did not cap the nuclear arms race as arms control advocates had hoped; rather, it established parameters under which both sides spent enormous amounts of money within those ground rules. Nevertheless, SALT II gave impetus to a process that over the decades drastically reduced nuclear weapons. Brown’s insistence that it not limit the potential for conventional cruise missiles has been justifi ed by the eff ective use of these weapons in recent confl icts.

Panama and Latin America

Carter envisioned a Latin America diff erent from the one he inherited in January 1977. Instead of dictatorial rule by caudillo leaders, military juntas, or oligarchies, and a chasm separating rich


41

In March 1979 Carter undertook a mission to Egypt and Israel that culminated in a peace treaty between the two longtime combatants. Brown, Vance, and Brzezinski accompanied the president. Realizing the psychological importance of U.S. arms sales to Israel and Egypt, Brown again suggested speeding them up. During the trip, when Begin seemed about to turn down a peace treaty, Brown advised Carter: “I sense Mr. Begin considers concluding a peace treaty is more urgent for you than him. If so, we need to convince him that time has run out . . . and make a fi nal attempt to blast him into the orbit of statesman and peacemaker.” If Begin refused, Brown wanted the president to tell him the deal was off . While Carter did not follow Brown’s advice per se, he and his aides conveyed to the Israeli prime minister that it was showdown time. At last, Begin agreed to the terms for a peace treaty. A more fl exible Sadat followed suit. After some fi nal negotiations between Brown and his Egyptian and Israeli counterparts on respective FMS, Carter, Sadat, and Begin signed a peace treaty in Washington on 26 March 1979.101

Carter hoped to use the success of the peace treaty to forge an overall settlement in the Middle East that included the Palestinians. A key to this process would be support from Saudi Arabia, the chief fi nancial supporter of the Palestinians. Although opposed to the treaty on the grounds it did not solve the overall Palestinian problem, after the Iranian Revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan the desert kingdom felt vulnerable. For years the Saudis had discussed with Washington ways to upgrade their obsolete air force. Th e Ford administration had agreed to sell the Saudis F–15s. Th e Carter 1978 aircraft package deal won U.S. congressional approval of the sale. Th e Saudis now wanted a package of weapon systems and equipment that would enhance the F–15s which they would receive in the 1980s. It comprised the so-called Big Five: multiple ejector bomb racks for a larger payload, conformal fuel tanks extending the F–15s’ range, AIM–9L Sidewinder air-to-air missiles for F–15s, KC–130 boom tanker aircraft for refueling them, and AWACS aircraft to support the F–15s. All of these systems would better allow the Saudis to protect their large and


40

Th e Negev bases constituted just one part of a larger program whereby the Carter administration provided assistance and weapons to Israel, modernized the Egyptian army, and sold high-end weapons to Saudi Arabia to encourage a Middle East peace. In February 1979 Brown visited Israel, Egypt, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia, the fi rst by a secretary of defense to any of these nations. Th e president instructed Brown to use his trip to emphasize that a rapid Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty was a fi rst step to a larger accommodation in the Middle East. In Israel, Carter authorized Brown to provide equipment and technical assistance in overcoming the loss of intelligence and early warning stemming from the Sinai withdrawal, but not go beyond the already decided fi scal year 1981 $1 billion in FMS and $785 million in security assistance. In Egypt, Brown’s message was clear: a closer security relationship with Washington required peace with Israel. If the Saudis wanted a special relationship, Washington expected them to support the peace and keep the oil fl owing.

Brown reported to Carter after his trip that “time is probably running against success” of an Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty. To make Sadat’s peace with Israel “digestible to the other moderate Arabs,” the United States had to off er more than a comprehensive Middle East peace. Brown suggested regional economic development, additional arms sales (although not blank checks), and a U.S. presence (not a military base) in the region. Joint military planning and intelligence-sharing were not enough. “Everyone has a [FMS] list,” Brown continued. For all Middle East allies, he recommended speeding up approvals of arms sales (without increasing dollar levels where credit was involved). Egypt, formerly dependent on Soviet arms and spare parts now no longer available, required a sharp infusion of U.S. arms and equipment. Carter took from Brown’s advice that the Arabs and Israelis all wanted “excessive American military sales and/or fi nancial aid.” Th e president and NSC staff concluded that arms sales should not exclusively drive Middle East policy, but such sales and grants proved a determining factor.100


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and poor, Carter would stress human rights, improved economic conditions, and democracy. By lifting up the poor and middle classes, Carter hoped to blunt the appeal of Cuban leader Fidel Castro and communism. Th e fi rst step in this new policy would be return of the Panama Canal to the Panamanian government, which had been seeking such a decision for over a decade. Carter saw a canal treaty as a break from the U.S. paternalistic approach to Latin America. With one magnanimous gesture he would win the respect and gratitude of the hemisphere. Yet the canal provided a vital shipping link between the Atlantic and Pacifi c Oceans, with great strategic signifi cance. DoD was able, with some reluctance, to align itself with Carter’s policies for Panama. Th e successful negotiation of the canal treaties, their ratifi cation campaign in the Senate, and the successful passage of legislation to fund the transfer process constituted major accomplishments in which Brown and DoD fully participated.64

Completed in 1914, the canal had lost some of its military usefulness by 1977, mainly because the 13 U.S. aircraft carriers (and thus their multiple escorts) could not transit it (nor could supertankers). Brown informed Carter: “In sum, assured ability to transit the canal remains of military importance, though rather less than in the past.” Brown’s view was in keeping with the Carter administration’s conclusion that the basic U.S. national interest did not reside in ownership of the canal and zone, but rather in a waterway that was safe, effi cient, neutral, and continuously open to shipping.65

It is almost impossible to exaggerate how controversial the return of the canal and zone became in 1977. It energized the New Right, which opposed it through a grassroots campaign of political techniques that would become its hallmark—direct mail, computerized support/donor lists, engagement of the news media, popular demonstrations, and focused pressure on legislators. Politicians, media fi gures, fi lm stars, and military offi cers lined up on either side of the argument, with the public overwhelmingly opposing return.66


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Well before the U.S negotiators, special advisers Sol Linowitz and Ellsworth Bunker, closed the deal with Panama and military leader General Omar Torrijos, the White House knew it had to sell the return to the Senate and to the public. Th e fi rst step required the Joint Chiefs of Staff to support it. Th at task fell to Brown. Th e Chiefs’ main concerns were Panama’s sovereignty over the canal and zone after its return and the need for a unilateral right of U.S. intervention if the canal was endangered. Brown suggested to JCS Chairman General George Brown a neutrality agreement that would extend after the return of the canal with the right of either the United States or Panama to protect and defend the waterway as they saw fi t. Th e other Chiefs were not enthusiastic, yet they endorsed the idea. Th is “Brown-Brown formula” proved one of the keys to breaking the negotiation deadlock with Torrijos and persuading the JCS to support the return.67 Th e other major breakthrough came from the U.S. negotiators. Instead of one treaty there would be two: one to cover the period until the termination of U.S. operations of the canal, and one to ensure the canal’s neutrality after its return.68

Still, the devil remained in the details in these negotiations. For the Defense Department, the key issues were: How much of the Canal Zone should be returned before the fi nal turnover in 2000? How could DoD Southern Command headquartered there operate eff ectively within a smaller area? And how could DoD sell the return to many in the military for whom the zone, with its neat suburban lawns, golf courses, and commissaries, had been a home away from home. Th e main institutional opposition resided in the Army, which had been dragging its feet over land and water issues. Linowitz went directly to Secretary of the Army Cliff ord Alexander (the “stockholder” of the canal enterprise, the direct representative of the president—not under Brown for this function). Th ey agreed on Panamanian sole authority for the Pacifi c Port of Balboa (similar to Cristobal on the Atlantic) and joint control of waterway traffi c. Th e trans-isthmus railroad would pass to Panama without conditions, along with zone housing occupied by non-U.S. citizens, with the


39

lobby. Brzezinski concluded that the initiative had been a necessary “costly diversion,” since it won the trust of the Arab moderates. Th e administration had to raise the number of F–15 sales for Israel to equal those for Saudi Arabia, and agree that the Saudis could not buy air-to-ground missiles for the aircraft. Two months after the package narrowly passed Congress, Brown reported to Carter that at his meeting with Jewish-American leaders, “there was no inclination on their part to rehash the Mid-East arms package sale.” Carter believed the package had made a signifi cant contribution to peace. He maintained a defeat would have been a real win for the Israeli lobby and would have emboldened Begin to be more intransigent while defl ating the Saudis and Egyptians. DoD spent a considerable eff ort juggling the aircraft allotments and trying to convince Congress that the package would actually increase Israeli air superiority. In retrospect, the eff ort seemed worth it.98

With the passage of the aircraft package, the peace process picked up. Brown was not involved in the 13-day negotiations at Camp David, Maryland, where Carter, Sadat, and Begin hammered out tentative peace accords. He did go to the Catoctin Mountain presidential retreat for one day to brief Carter on the Defense budget. It was 15 September 1978, the day Sadat threatened to leave, almost collapsing the talks. Later on the 15th, Brown and Brzezinski met with Weizman. Th ey agreed that as part of the Camp David Accords, Washington would fund the transfer of Israeli airfi elds in the Sinai to the Negev (under the accords the Sinai would be returned to Egypt). Brown later told Weizman: “My marching orders were to make those [bases] no more capable or luxurious in the Sinai than those they are to replace.” Carter commented to Brzezinski that he did not “want Harold Brown wandering around in the desert trying to fi gure out where to put the airfi elds for the Israelis, with us having to foot the bill.” True to his instructions, Brown and DoD drove a hard bargain—no frills, just two basic air bases built with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers acting as construction manager.99

,


38

and air ordnance. In all, it amounted to a request for $1.5 billion in foreign military sales (in 1977 dollars) per year through 1983. As the JCS and ISA pointed out, without priorities and justifi cations, MATMON C was “not a rational planning document.”95

Brown greeted Israeli Defense Minister Ezer Weizman on the steps of the riverside entrance to the Pentagon on a frigid, snowy day in early March 1978. Th e secretary aff orded him an equally cold reception in his Pentagon offi ce. He informed Weizman that MATMON C was a “long shopping list” with a “lot of margin in it.” Th e United States was prepared to sell Israel only $1 billion in FMS per year. Surprised at Brown’s “very reserved” and unforthcoming attitude, a disappointed Weizman left Washington. He told Begin to go over the Pentagon chief ’s head with Carter when the two leaders met later that month. At their meeting, Begin pared down the MATMON C list, but not enough for DoD’s purposes. Th e president passed the requests to DoD, where Deputy Secretary Charles Duncan advised Carter to “hold off until after the aircraft package has cleared Congress.” Th e deal made sense to Carter and the NSC staff .96

Although initially skeptical about the proposed $8 billion FMS aircraft package for Israel, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia (since it ran against the grain of his policies to limit arms sales), Carter came around to the idea. It could grease the peace process in the Middle East. Brown’s advice was to make the combined package for Egypt and Saudi Arabia roughly equal to the one for Israel and assure the two were inextricably linked. To ensure success, Brown argued, “We need from the outset to tie the elements of the package together and maintain the political will to keep them tied.” Th is proved diffi cult, as Israel was unhappy with the rough equality of the package and the fact that the Saudis would receive ten more sophisticated F–15 aircraft than the Isrealis did.97

As expected, the sales packages required a bruising fi ght in Congress. Carter complained about opposition from the Jewish-American


27

rest of the housing to be jointly managed and handed over in fi ve-year intervals. Most of Ancon Hill, overlooking Panama City and of great symbolic importance, would return to Panama. Previous off ers included transferring only the top of the hill, but the fi nal deal made exceptions only for U.S. hospitals, schools, and other key installations. In all, the deal off ered 40 percent of the zone’s land and water to Panama. Th ere would be wrangling over the amount of land and water to be returned, and additional details to iron out, but the Linowitz-Alexander deal cleared the way for an agreement.69

Th e last major hurdle was to disabuse Torrijos of thinking that the United States would pay Panama for “past injustices.” He demanded a billion dollars up front and $300 million per year until the return of the canal. Linowitz informed him that Congress would never “‘appropriate taxpayers’ money for the purpose of persuading the Panamanians to take away ‘our canal.’” An equally enraged Carter agreed. Torrijos backed down, accepting instead a more modest package of loans and increased tolls. Th e deal was sealed. Now, could the Carter administration sell it to the Senate or would the canal treaties go the way of President Woodrow Wilson’s League of Nations?70

Carter described ratifi cation of the Panama Canal Treaties as “the most diffi cult political battle I ever faced, including my campaign for President.” All the national security/foreign policy agencies contributed to an orchestrated public relations and legislative campaign to persuade a reluctant Congress and a skeptical public to accept the treaties. State and the White House headed the eff ort. Brown and other DoD offi cials gave hundreds of speeches to the American public (by comparison State offi cials gave 1,500).71

Where Secretary Brown could be most eff ective, however, was convincing senators that the treaties adequately protected U.S. security; and conversely, if the treaties were rejected, the canal’s infrastructure would be vulnerable. Brown testifi ed before a number of congressional committees, but his testimony before the Senate


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Committee on Foreign Relations was the most eloquent. Th e secretary told the committee: “Use of the canal is more important than ownership. Effi cient operation of the canal in years ahead is more important than nostalgia for a simpler past. . . . I believe personally . . . that these treaties fully serve and greatly promote our national security interests.” As for defense of the canal, Brown maintained that the United States would be able to defend the Atlantic and Pacifi c approaches with overwhelming force. For the duration of the fi rst treaty (until 2000), U.S. forces in the zone and key bases and training areas would remain under U.S. control and could be reinforced as needed. Th e real danger, according to Brown, would not come from conventional attack, but from terrorism, sabotage, and guerrilla attacks on vulnerable locks or other facilities by dissident Panamanians or other Latin American opponents. Th e new treaties would lessen this threat.72

It would be nice to report that Brown’s words swayed the Senate, but U.S. politics does not work that way. Th e Carter team made promises to senators, accepted amendments it would have rather not, and expedited travel of uncommitted legislators to Panama to observe fi rsthand. After the Senate concluded its extensive deliberations in early spring 1978, the administration endured nail-biting votes. On 16 March, by a vote of 75 to 23, the Senate passed an amendment by Senator Dennis DeConcini (D–AZ) stating that the United States could intervene in Panama against any action that impeded operations of the canal (already implicit in the neutrality treaty). Th e Senate then ratifi ed the neutrality treaty by a vote of 68 to 32, followed by ratifi cation of the treaty on operations through 1999 by the same vote, in both cases two more votes than required for a two-thirds majority.73

Th e fi ght should have been over, but it was not. Th e Senate and House of Representatives needed to fund the treaty that would operate the canal until 2000. Most of the opposition came from the House, where some members felt they should have had a vote on ratifi cation, since the operations treaties concerned the disposition


37

shining light burst on the Middle East scene.” It fell to the secretary to discourage an exuberant Egyptian president from expecting too much in military sales and assistance until the peace process was further along. Sadat was particularly desperate for aircraft, especially F–5 fi ghters and C–130 Hercules transports, as well as armored personnel carriers (APCs). Brown also reminded him and Egyptian Minister of War General Mohammed Abdel Ghani al-Gamasy that any U.S.-Egyptian deal required congressional approval, making the U.S. commitment to Israel an overriding consideration.93

Although the United States had been a key supporter of Israel since its creation in 1948, it was not until the 1967 Arab-Israeli War that the United States provided Israel with sophisticated military weapons and equipment, an eff ort it repeated on a much larger scale during the 1973 war. When Brown took over the Pentagon, the Israeli government had placed $4 billion in military sales orders with the United States to replace equipment lost in the 1973 war. Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and then his successor, Menachem Begin, came to Washington in 1977 determined to continue and expand the U.S. military supply pipeline. Two considerations loomed large in DoD’s approach to these requests. First, the Israeli claims that they were vulnerable to an all-out Arab attack were based on some dubious assessments. Th ey based their military needs on a potential attack by all Arab states including Iraq, the Persian Gulf states, and even some in East Africa, hardly a realistic scenario, especially given Sadat’s peace overtures. Second, Brown agreed with the president’s conviction that sales of U.S. weapons and military equipment provided the best lever on Israel to make peace with its Arab neighbors. Th erefore sales would be contingent on Israeli concessions.94

Th e 1977 Israeli request, which they called MATMON C, was an eight-page, single-spaced list of weapons (including 400 tanks, 3105 APCs, 25 sophisticated F–15 aircraft, 150 basic but still formidable F–16s, 60 helicopters, 12 hydrofoils, and 100 all-weather antiship Harpoon missiles), equipment (including $200 million for communications), and huge amounts of ammunition


36

Brown again weighed in with the president. Th e 16,000 troops of the El Salvador military, comprising the National Guard and security police, were fi ghting 5,000 guerrillas trained by Cuba, Nicaragua, and the Palestine Liberation Organization and armed by a coalition of leftist states that included Cuba, Nicaragua, Ethiopia, Vietnam, and the Eastern European countries. Undersupplied Salvadoran forces found themselves in dire straits. When, in January 1981, the rebels blew up one of the military’s three remaining helicopters, and ammunition supplies were down to a week’s worth, Carter agreed to send helicopters and MTTs. Two helicopters and their teams departed immediately from Panama; four more were to arrive on 1 February. Th is last-minute decision ended the impasse between DoD, which felt without such assistance the junta could not survive, and State and the White House, both of which wanted to withhold military aid to encourage reform. Th e fate of U.S. policy toward El Salvador and Central America would soon rest in the hands of the Reagan administration.92

Th e Middle East

While DoD offi cials and others in the Carter administration diff ered over Latin American policy, little divergence existed on the Middle East, Iran, the Persian Gulf, and Southwest Asia. Brown and OSD remained in accord with the president’s Middle East initiatives. In the accomplishment of the Camp David Accords and the subsequent Egyptian-Israeli Peace Treaty, Carter’s fi nest moments, Brown and OSD played a secondary but important role in expediting the peace.

Peace came at a price: additional military sales, credits, grants, and other military assistance to Israel and Egypt, as well as a three-pronged aircraft deal including not only the two Middle East antagonists but also Saudi Arabia. Brown had the diffi cult task of moving from the president’s broad promises about security assistance to negotiating the actual details. A case in point: Egyptian President Anwar Sadat’s trips to Washington in April 1977 and February 1978. Sadat charmed and inspired Carter, who described him as “a


29

of U.S. property. Th e battle to win funding actually took longer than ratifi cation and proved almost as bitter. Carter described it as “horrible.” Instead of convincing two-thirds of 100 senators, the administration needed a majority of 435 representatives, who were highly susceptible to public opinion given their two-year terms. Opponents in the House hoped to forge a majority to defeat the funding bill and torpedo the treaties. Carter again called on Brown and DoD offi cials to explain in testimony and in seemingly endless informal briefi ngs of 30 or 40 House members the intricacies of the legislation.74

Th e Senate passed the legislation easily. Th e House was another matter. Five days before the operations treaty was to take eff ect, the House, which had rejected the Senate version in conference in part as a protest, fi nally passed a bill similar to the conference version they had just turned down. Th e canal transfer had been an arduous and a closely run process. Th e passion about “giving back our canal” eventually dissipated, and the canal operated as a nondiscriminatory international waterway, as Carter and Brown envisioned.75

While Brown and DoD had supported Carter’s return of the canal and zone, they found themselves increasingly at odds with the White House over the rest of Latin American policy. Latin Amercanists in the White House and State Department saw human rights, economic equality, and democracy as basis for their overall approach to the hemisphere. Th ey looked askance at DoD’s longstanding, close relations with Latin American militaries, many of which ran their countries as military dictatorships. To human rights and democracy advocates, U.S. arms sales to such dictatorships merely propped them up.

Brown and his staff argued for preserving these military-to-military relations, forged over decades, since they could be a force for good. Until Latin Americans felt secure, they would not divert scarce resources to economic and social betterment. Since Latin American militaries would remain key political players for the foreseeable


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Th e Middle East




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future, it was essential to harness their eff orts toward U.S. objectives. Militaries would be encouraged to embrace social, economic, and political reforms. Arms sales provided the president a useful and fl exible tool to this end. At a major PRC meeting on Latin America in March 1977, Deputy Secretary of Defense Charles Duncan stressed that DoD’s International Military Education and Training (IMET) program, which brought foreign offi cers to the United States for military training, provided an opportunity to infl uence young military leaders. Th e rest of the group was less impressed, recommending “warm relations with civilian and democratic governments, normal relations with non-repressive military regimes, but correct relations with repressive governments.”76

Th ere were plenty of repressive military regimes in Latin America, but initially Brazil, Argentina, and Chile provided the focus. Of the three, Brazil was the least repressive. Brown and his staff encouraged Carter to open a dialogue with the military leadership to reverse “the serious erosion of our military ties with Brazil . . . our fi rmest ally in South America.” Brzezinski supported OSD, noting that Brazil, with its great economic prospects, could become a “regional stabilizer.” Carter made an eff ort, but the initiative failed to create a better and lasting relationship, in part because Brazil’s military government was unwilling to sign agreements that required it to submit human rights reports to the State Department.77

If Brazil had a relatively benign military government, the same could not be said for Argentina, whose “dirty war” against Marxist rebels and other opponents of the regime resulted in thousands of Argentine political opponents, dissidents, and potential insurgents either disappearing never to be seen again or thrown into secret prisons where they were often tortured. Th is appalling record caused the U.S. Congress to prohibit all forms of security assistance and arms sales to Argentina in August 1977.78 Brown wrote Vance in March 1978 that the prohibition was not contributing to better human rights there, but rather having the opposite eff ect. Finally, the administration agreed to release some money for spare military parts for Argentina


35

Time was running out on El Salvador, described succinctly by Assistant Secretary McGiff ert as “one of the sickest societies in the world.” An alliance of the military and an economic oligarchy faced a radical opposition with a terrorist nucleus. Th e Romero regime was unable to prevent opposition kidnappings, bombings, and shooting of government offi cials.88 Brown recommended providing economic and military aid (nonlethal tear gas, commercial purchases of U.S. military equipment, and new engines for Guatemalan C–47 transport aircraft) and taking pressure off other countries not to sell arms to El Salvador—in return for better human rights and political reform.89

Before the deal could be fi nalized with Romero, “reformist” military offi cers overthrew him in October 1979. Th e Pentagon stood ready to provide the new Revolutionary Governing Junta with nonlethal military assistance, a 36-man military mobile training team (MTT), $4.5 million in FMS for trucks and communications equipment, and $7.5 million for six UH–1H Iroquois helicopters. Th e new Salvadoran junta and the White House dithered. Both wanted “multilateral cover” for the training teams (Venezuela agreed to provide aid). After talking to Catholic Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, Carter agreed with his plea to make political reforms a precondition for the military aid.90

In October 1980 Brown told the president that after nine months of delay it was time to send the aid. Brown’s case received a setback when, in late 1980, Salvadoran right-wing security forces murdered four American women (three of them Catholic nuns). Carter suspended all aid and sent special representatives to investigate the murder and insist that the government in San Salvador rein in the right-wing death squads. Th e team concluded that the government would investigate and move against the death squads, but they recommended withholding fi scal year 1981 military aid (MTTs, trucks, communications equipment, and helicopters) until Washington could see the results of their eff orts. Carter agreed.91


34

Washington frayed and then snapped. His government deteriorated quickly. When he unleashed the Nicaraguan National Guard to attack indiscriminately rebel-held cities, towns, and villages, he lost the support of the middle class. Although Somoza was quick to charge that Cuba was behind the Sandinistas, the Cubans had been circumspect in their support, working through Panama and Costa Rica. In May 1979, sensing the kill, they joined the Sandinistas in earnest. Th e National Guard found itself short of everything—rockets, hand grenades, mortar rounds, and recoilless rifl e and heavy machine gun ammunition. Its former suppliers, Israel and Argentina, joined the United States in embargoing weapons.85

In June 1979 Carter met with his key advisers. Brzezinski made the case for a U.S. peacekeeping force, but neither Brown nor Vance agreed. Th e president emphatically opposed it. Brown argued it was time to resupply the National Guard, not to save Somoza but to allow it to stand up to the Sandinistas in a post-Somoza era. On 17 July 1979 Somoza fl ed Nicaragua for Miami; in two days the Sandinistas assumed power.86

Brown outlined for the president a plan prepared in ISA to save the rest of Central America. In Guatemala, where the leftists were weak and the military and ruling elite strong and brutal (they systematically killed moderate opponents), Brown recommended no new programs but suggested cultivating moderate Guatemalan military leaders in the hopes they would moderate their government’s repressive actions. In Honduras, where the leftist threat was minimal, he recommended making sure the military held promised elections by using increased economic aid, more foreign military sales, and IMET as incentives. In El Salvador, the military-appointed president, Carlos Humberto Romero, who seemed responsive to U.S. pressure for political liberalization, represented to Brown and ISA the only choice. Th ey favored encouraging Romero with nonmilitary aid and limiting any actions that “would squeeze him because of human rights violations.”87


31

in September 1978. DoD offi cials thought they saw some human rights improvement, but it was hard to tell. Brzezinski also claimed some success. In 1980 U.S.-Argentine relations deteriorated because of Argentina’s grain sales to the Soviet Union, despite private promises to support the U.S. embargo and the junta’s support for a coup in Bolivia. Still, at the end of the year Carter offi cials anticipated better relations in an expected second term.79

While Argentina had the worst human rights record in the hemisphere, Chile under President Augusto Pinochet ran a close second. In the face of Chile’s unwillingness to extradite Chilean intelligence offi cers responsible for the assassination of political opponent Orlando Letelier in Washington, DC, the State Department persuaded Carter to sever all military ties with Chile. Brown felt compelled to dissent from Vance’s recommendation. Given Chile’s strategic signifi cance, he argued for some honey rather than all vinegar. A total cutoff would result in loss of infl uence among the Chilean military and the possibility of increased Soviet infl uence there. Carter disregarded this advice, siding with the anti-Pinochet offi cials in the White House and State. When DoD recommended that Chile participate in South American naval exercises in 1980, NSC Latin American staff er Robert Pastor opposed DoD’s suggestion, discounting their concern that Chile might turn to Moscow. “We are hardly in danger of losing Chile to anyone but the militarists,” he stated. Brzezinski excluded the Chilean navy. Pastor complained about “their [DoD’s] continued eff orts to undermine the president’s human rights and security objectives in Latin America.” In Pastor’s eyes it was not a diff erence of opinion over tactics, but outright opposition.80 In all three countries DoD’s eff ort to protect or reestablish military relations failed, but at least in Brazil and Argentina they made some tentative progress that eventually resulted in better relations under Reagan. On Chile, DoD’s advice fell completely on deaf ears.

Another long-term problem child in the hemisphere was Cuba. Carter began his term hopeful that he could achieve a rapprochement


30





35





34





31





32

with Fidel Castro but, if anything, U.S.-Cuban relations deteriorated during his last three years. Much of that deterioration derived from concern that the Soviet Union was modernizing Cuba’s armed forces in violation of the 1962 Cuban missile crisis agreement on Soviet off ensive weapons, which the Carter administration assumed to be more specifi c than it actually was. In 1978 the Soviet Union provided Cuba with 12 to 24 MiG–23 aircraft, which eventually were determined not to be nuclear-capable. Still, Brown and the JCS feared if unchallenged they could lead to more dangerous Soviet upgrades. Brown also worried about their eff ect on SALT II ratifi cation. By May 1979 Brown and Assistant Secretary (ISA) David McGiff ert were seriously concerned about the Soviet buildup in Cuba—in addition to the MiG–23s, the Soviets upgraded the naval base at Cienfuegos and provided Cuba diesel-electric Soviet Foxtrot- and older Whiskey-class submarines. Th en, in August 1978, U.S. intelligence determined that there was a Red Army brigade in Cuba. It was not known at the time that the brigade had been there since 1962. Without airlift or sealift capability DoD concluded that it posed no real threat to the United States. Yet, when its existence was leaked by Senator Frank Church (D–ID), it caused a media fi restorm and further damages to SALT ratifi cation chances.81

By the end of September 1978, Brown joined Vance and Brzezinski in successfully recommending to the president a strategy to curb Cuban adventurism and off set Soviet augmentation of the Cuban armed forces. DoD responsibilities included increased military presence in the Caribbean through Navy ports of call, training programs for friendly countries’ armed forces, joint training exercises, use of military personnel in Caribbean natural disasters, and additional military assistance to Latin American nations that respected democratic values and human rights. By the end of 1980, the U.S. military presence in the Caribbean had been upgraded, but Havana remained very much a thorn in Washington’s side.82

Cuba was only 90 miles from the United States, but it was almost as close to Central America, where for the most part caudillos or


33

militaries ruled. During the early years of the Carter administration, Central America did not appear on the radar screen, with the exception of Panama. Although hardly beacons of democracy (Costa Rica excepted), the regimes of the isthmus kept a low profi le, allowing human rights advocates to focus on Argentina, Chile, and Brazil. Insurgencies in Nicaragua and El Salvador raised the prospect of Cuban support, posing another series of problems.

Long ruled by the corrupt Somoza family, the Nicaraguan government began to unravel in 1978 under pressure from a leftist insurgency led by the Sandinistas that exploded into civil war. Th e Carter administration hoped to ease out President Anastasio Somoza and replace him with an interim and then elected government dominated by the non-Sandinista opposition. What Washington feared was a Sandinista government closely allied to Cuba. Th e U.S. response to the downfall of Somoza is a long, convoluted story in which DoD initially argued for an evenhanded policy toward Somoza’s Nicaragua.83

DoD offi cials feared that the administration’s human rights advocates, who wished to expedite Somoza’s exit at all costs, were dominating U.S. policy. As Deputy Secretary Duncan told the PRC in early June 1978, the Sandinistas succeed “because of the support they are getting from Cuba, Panama, and Costa Rica, which permits them refuge.” Lean on Somoza, Duncan argued, but also “lean on these countries” to calm the violence. Deputy Secretary of State Warren Christopher disagreed, and Duncan found himself odd man out.84

Carter asked DoD to send General Dennis McAuliff e, a close friend of Somoza, to Managua. McAuliff e did not mince words in informing the Nicaraguan president his time was up. If he refused to come to terms with the non-Marxist opposition and agree to a plebiscite on his future, the United States would cut ties with him, including military aid. Somoza refused, and his lifeline from


32

with Fidel Castro but, if anything, U.S.-Cuban relations deteriorated during his last three years. Much of that deterioration derived from concern that the Soviet Union was modernizing Cuba’s armed forces in violation of the 1962 Cuban missile crisis agreement on Soviet off ensive weapons, which the Carter administration assumed to be more specifi c than it actually was. In 1978 the Soviet Union provided Cuba with 12 to 24 MiG–23 aircraft, which eventually were determined not to be nuclear-capable. Still, Brown and the JCS feared if unchallenged they could lead to more dangerous Soviet upgrades. Brown also worried about their eff ect on SALT II ratifi cation. By May 1979 Brown and Assistant Secretary (ISA) David McGiff ert were seriously concerned about the Soviet buildup in Cuba—in addition to the MiG–23s, the Soviets upgraded the naval base at Cienfuegos and provided Cuba diesel-electric Soviet Foxtrot- and older Whiskey-class submarines. Th en, in August 1978, U.S. intelligence determined that there was a Red Army brigade in Cuba. It was not known at the time that the brigade had been there since 1962. Without airlift or sealift capability DoD concluded that it posed no real threat to the United States. Yet, when its existence was leaked by Senator Frank Church (D–ID), it caused a media fi restorm and further damages to SALT ratifi cation chances.81

By the end of September 1978, Brown joined Vance and Brzezinski in successfully recommending to the president a strategy to curb Cuban adventurism and off set Soviet augmentation of the Cuban armed forces. DoD responsibilities included increased military presence in the Caribbean through Navy ports of call, training programs for friendly countries’ armed forces, joint training exercises, use of military personnel in Caribbean natural disasters, and additional military assistance to Latin American nations that respected democratic values and human rights. By the end of 1980, the U.S. military presence in the Caribbean had been upgraded, but Havana remained very much a thorn in Washington’s side.82

Cuba was only 90 miles from the United States, but it was almost as close to Central America, where for the most part caudillos or


33

militaries ruled. During the early years of the Carter administration, Central America did not appear on the radar screen, with the exception of Panama. Although hardly beacons of democracy (Costa Rica excepted), the regimes of the isthmus kept a low profi le, allowing human rights advocates to focus on Argentina, Chile, and Brazil. Insurgencies in Nicaragua and El Salvador raised the prospect of Cuban support, posing another series of problems.

Long ruled by the corrupt Somoza family, the Nicaraguan government began to unravel in 1978 under pressure from a leftist insurgency led by the Sandinistas that exploded into civil war. Th e Carter administration hoped to ease out President Anastasio Somoza and replace him with an interim and then elected government dominated by the non-Sandinista opposition. What Washington feared was a Sandinista government closely allied to Cuba. Th e U.S. response to the downfall of Somoza is a long, convoluted story in which DoD initially argued for an evenhanded policy toward Somoza’s Nicaragua.83

DoD offi cials feared that the administration’s human rights advocates, who wished to expedite Somoza’s exit at all costs, were dominating U.S. policy. As Deputy Secretary Duncan told the PRC in early June 1978, the Sandinistas succeed “because of the support they are getting from Cuba, Panama, and Costa Rica, which permits them refuge.” Lean on Somoza, Duncan argued, but also “lean on these countries” to calm the violence. Deputy Secretary of State Warren Christopher disagreed, and Duncan found himself odd man out.84

Carter asked DoD to send General Dennis McAuliff e, a close friend of Somoza, to Managua. McAuliff e did not mince words in informing the Nicaraguan president his time was up. If he refused to come to terms with the non-Marxist opposition and agree to a plebiscite on his future, the United States would cut ties with him, including military aid. Somoza refused, and his lifeline from


30





35





34





31





30





35





34





31





28





37





36


Th e Middle East




29






28





37





36


Th e Middle East




29






26




39



,


38






27






26




39



,


38






27






24






41




40




25





24






41




40




25





22






43





42





23





22






43





42





23





20






45





44






21


SALT II



20






45





44






21


SALT II



18





47




-


46






19





18





47




-


46






19





16






49





48





17





16






49





48





17





14






51






50






15





14






51






50






15





12




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13





12




53






52





13





10





55




54


Conclusion



11





10





55




54


Conclusion



11





8





57

Notes











9





8





57

Notes











9





6






59










58











7






6






59










58











7






4





61









60








5




4





61









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5




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3





2





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2





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65

72 Testimony by Brown, SCFR, Panama Canal Treaties: Hearings, 95th Cong., 1st sess., 27 Sep 1977, 96–98.

73 Linowitz, Making of a Public Man, 199–203. Th e text of the treaties are printed in Department of State, American Foreign Policy: Basic Documents, 1977–1980, 1384–1403, 1412–1421.

74 Jimmy Carter, interview by Richard E. Neustadt et al., 29 Nov 1983, Presidential Projects, Jimmy Carter, Presidential Oral History, Academic Programs, Miller Center, University of Virginia, <http://webstorage3mepa.virginia.edu.poh/transcripts/ohp_1982_11298_carter.pdf>, accessed 31 Mar 2009; Carter, Keeping Faith, 182; Fact Sheet, Implementing Legislation, Major Issues, 8 Feb 1978, folder Panama Canal Treaty, Documents re 1978 Presidential Trip, Congressional Hearing, McGiff ert Briefi ng Book, Hearing, HRAC, 3/79, box 426; memo, McIntryre for Carter, 27 Jul 1978, folder Panama Canal Treaty: Documents on Implementation, 1977–1981, DoD Original Treaty Implementation, box 416: both in Subject Files, OSD/HO; memo, Brown for Carter, 27 Jul 1979, 0000B421.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

75 Mary Russell, “House Turns Down Bill to Implement Canal Treaty,” Washington Post, 12 Sep 1979, 1; Russell, “Conferees Swiftly Reach Compromise on Canal,” ibid., 25 Sep 1979; A.O. Sulzberger Jr., “House Enacts Bill to Carry Out Terms of Panama Canal Treaty,” New York Times, 27 Sep 1979, 1.

76 Keefer, Harold Brown, 75–76; Minutes of PRC Meeting, 24 Mar 1977, CK3100146753, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 2011.

77 Keefer, Harold Brown, 77–82, 77 (quote); Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 128.

78 Pub. L. No. 95-92, 91 Stat. 619-620 (1977).79 Keefer, Harold Brown, 77–80; memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 13

Jul 1978, CK3100117377, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 2010; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 128–129; memo, Christopher for Carter, 19 Jun 1980, CK3100135823, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 2011; memos, Muskie for Carter, 18 Oct 1980; Th ornton for Brzezinski, 28 Oct 1980: both in folder Mtgs MBB, 10/80–1/81, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library.

80 Keefer, Harold Brown, 80–82; memo, Brzezinski for Vance, 27 Nov 1979, CK3100496688, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 11; memo, Pastor for Brzezinski, 20 Feb 1980; memos, Th ornton for Brzezinski, 13 Feb 1980


64









1

Introduction




65

72 Testimony by Brown, SCFR, Panama Canal Treaties: Hearings, 95th Cong., 1st sess., 27 Sep 1977, 96–98.

73 Linowitz, Making of a Public Man, 199–203. Th e text of the treaties are printed in Department of State, American Foreign Policy: Basic Documents, 1977–1980, 1384–1403, 1412–1421.

74 Jimmy Carter, interview by Richard E. Neustadt et al., 29 Nov 1983, Presidential Projects, Jimmy Carter, Presidential Oral History, Academic Programs, Miller Center, University of Virginia, <http://webstorage3mepa.virginia.edu.poh/transcripts/ohp_1982_11298_carter.pdf>, accessed 31 Mar 2009; Carter, Keeping Faith, 182; Fact Sheet, Implementing Legislation, Major Issues, 8 Feb 1978, folder Panama Canal Treaty, Documents re 1978 Presidential Trip, Congressional Hearing, McGiff ert Briefi ng Book, Hearing, HRAC, 3/79, box 426; memo, McIntryre for Carter, 27 Jul 1978, folder Panama Canal Treaty: Documents on Implementation, 1977–1981, DoD Original Treaty Implementation, box 416: both in Subject Files, OSD/HO; memo, Brown for Carter, 27 Jul 1979, 0000B421.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

75 Mary Russell, “House Turns Down Bill to Implement Canal Treaty,” Washington Post, 12 Sep 1979, 1; Russell, “Conferees Swiftly Reach Compromise on Canal,” ibid., 25 Sep 1979; A.O. Sulzberger Jr., “House Enacts Bill to Carry Out Terms of Panama Canal Treaty,” New York Times, 27 Sep 1979, 1.

76 Keefer, Harold Brown, 75–76; Minutes of PRC Meeting, 24 Mar 1977, CK3100146753, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 2011.

77 Keefer, Harold Brown, 77–82, 77 (quote); Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 128.

78 Pub. L. No. 95-92, 91 Stat. 619-620 (1977).79 Keefer, Harold Brown, 77–80; memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 13

Jul 1978, CK3100117377, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 2010; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 128–129; memo, Christopher for Carter, 19 Jun 1980, CK3100135823, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 2011; memos, Muskie for Carter, 18 Oct 1980; Th ornton for Brzezinski, 28 Oct 1980: both in folder Mtgs MBB, 10/80–1/81, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library.

80 Keefer, Harold Brown, 80–82; memo, Brzezinski for Vance, 27 Nov 1979, CK3100496688, DDRS, accessed 27 Jul 11; memo, Pastor for Brzezinski, 20 Feb 1980; memos, Th ornton for Brzezinski, 13 Feb 1980


64









1

Introduction




67

93 Carter, Keeping Faith, 282 (quote); and White House Diary, 38–39; memos, Brown for Vance and Brzezinski, 14 Dec 1977, 0000CB20.pdf; Vance and Brown for Brzezinski, n.d. [c. 23 Dec 1977], 0000CB12.pdf: both in CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; Keefer, Harold Brown, 247–251.

94 Keefer, Harold Brown, 251–252, 255; Carter, Keeping Faith, 299–300; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 115–120.

95 Keefer, Harold Brown, 256 (quote).96 Ibid., 256–258 (quotes); Ezer Weizman, Th e Battle for Peace (New

York: Bantam Books, 1981), 233–236, 238–240, 242–248. Weizman describes Brown as “reserved and shy . . . almost incapable of small talk,” adding he was “a descendent of the Jewish people who had grown away from his roots.”

97 Carter, Keeping Faith, 284; and White House Diary, 39, 122; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 247–248; memo, Brown for Carter, 21 May 1977, 0000CA5A.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

98 Carter, White House Diary, 194–195; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 247 (quote); memo Brown for Carter, 7 Jul 1978, 0000B443.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

99 Carter, Keeping Faith, 391–192; and White House Diary, 236–238; William B. Quandt, Camp David: Peacemaking and Politics (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1986), 238–239; Mohamed Ibrahim Kamel, Camp David Accords: A Testimony (London: PKI, 1986), 352–357; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 267, 296 (Carter quote); Brown, Star Spangled Security, 146–147. Th e bases were constructed on time at a cost of $1.038 million, just $20 million over budget. Schubert, Building Air Bases in the Negev, 270–274.

100 Keefer, Harold Brown, 256–258 (quotes); Carter, White House Diary, 294.101 Carter, Keeping Faith, 424; White House Diary, 303; Brzezinski,

Power and Principle, 283–285; Vance, Hard Choices, 245–252.102 Memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 14 Mar 1980; note, Carter to

Brzezinski, 20 Mar 1980: both in folder Mtgs MBB, 3/80–4/80, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; Keefer, Harold Brown, 274–276 (quotes).


66












v

Foreword






67

93 Carter, Keeping Faith, 282 (quote); and White House Diary, 38–39; memos, Brown for Vance and Brzezinski, 14 Dec 1977, 0000CB20.pdf; Vance and Brown for Brzezinski, n.d. [c. 23 Dec 1977], 0000CB12.pdf: both in CD-2, Declassifi ed SecDef Files; Keefer, Harold Brown, 247–251.

94 Keefer, Harold Brown, 251–252, 255; Carter, Keeping Faith, 299–300; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 115–120.

95 Keefer, Harold Brown, 256 (quote).96 Ibid., 256–258 (quotes); Ezer Weizman, Th e Battle for Peace (New

York: Bantam Books, 1981), 233–236, 238–240, 242–248. Weizman describes Brown as “reserved and shy . . . almost incapable of small talk,” adding he was “a descendent of the Jewish people who had grown away from his roots.”

97 Carter, Keeping Faith, 284; and White House Diary, 39, 122; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 247–248; memo, Brown for Carter, 21 May 1977, 0000CA5A.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

98 Carter, White House Diary, 194–195; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 247 (quote); memo Brown for Carter, 7 Jul 1978, 0000B443.pdf, CD-1, Declassifi ed SecDef Files.

99 Carter, Keeping Faith, 391–192; and White House Diary, 236–238; William B. Quandt, Camp David: Peacemaking and Politics (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1986), 238–239; Mohamed Ibrahim Kamel, Camp David Accords: A Testimony (London: PKI, 1986), 352–357; Brzezinski, Power and Principle, 267, 296 (Carter quote); Brown, Star Spangled Security, 146–147. Th e bases were constructed on time at a cost of $1.038 million, just $20 million over budget. Schubert, Building Air Bases in the Negev, 270–274.

100 Keefer, Harold Brown, 256–258 (quotes); Carter, White House Diary, 294.101 Carter, Keeping Faith, 424; White House Diary, 303; Brzezinski,

Power and Principle, 283–285; Vance, Hard Choices, 245–252.102 Memo, Brzezinski for Carter, 14 Mar 1980; note, Carter to

Brzezinski, 20 Mar 1980: both in folder Mtgs MBB, 3/80–4/80, box 34, Subject File, Brzezinski Donated Material, Carter Library; Keefer, Harold Brown, 274–276 (quotes).


66












v

Foreword








69












68











Contents

Foreword. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1




SALT II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21


Th e Middle East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36



Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

Notes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57




69












68











Contents

Foreword. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1




SALT II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21


Th e Middle East . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36



Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

Notes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

Cover Photo


Source: NARA II.


About the Author


About the Editors



Cover Photo


Source: NARA II.


About the Author


About the Editors




SEPTEMBER 2017




1977–1981



Washington, DC


SEPTEMBER 2017




1977–1981



Washington, DC


SEPTEMBER 2017




1977–1981



Washington, DC

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